


Where Do We Go From Here?

by Thousandsmiles



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, But it's Erik and he has no chill so we gotta take things slow, Don't worry actiony action will happen, Elders, Erik Killmonger Lives, Erik has an odd sense of humour, Erik is a smart cupcake too, Gen, Is there a tag for slow burn for familial relationships?, No cousin-cest, OCs - Freeform, Post-Black Panther (2018), Shuri is a smart cupcake, Slow burn cousin hood?, T'Challa has to deal with them both., This isn't a soft cuddly version of the Erik lives train, and issues, fluff in the weirdest moments, just putting that out there, of course she is, so many issues, so much vibranium, sometime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-04-05 08:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 31,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14040177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thousandsmiles/pseuds/Thousandsmiles
Summary: Erik lives. Only now what to do with him???





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to jump on the Erik lives train. All aboard!!!!
> 
> General notes: I'm writing Erik as portrayed in the movie since I've never read a single Black Panther comic. Also for the record I'm neither white nor black and live in a country where racisim is present but doesn't really affect day to day life of the majority of people unless it's an election year. So basically if I get something wrong, please point it out, especially as I'm writing from Erik's point of view. 
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Black Panther.

When he awakes it’s not to cold darkness or fiery agony, the only two options he had thought he'd had for the afterlife. Instead its cool, clinical sterility, slashed by wild, vibrant colors. Wakanda. He's known no other place like this.

“What the hell?” He croaks. “What the freaking hell?”

“Yes. You're alive.” The voice doesn't sound particularly pleased.

He turns his head. “Princess.”

“Erik.” There's no fury in Shuri’s eyes just a coolness he'd never thought possible of the Wakandan princess.

“Why the hell am I alive?”

“That’s a question you should ask my brother,” she says. “I don’t have an answer for you.”

“Where the hell is he then?”

“On his way,” said Shuri. She taps something on her screens and then after a moment a door whooshes open. His cousin walks in and at the sight of him Erik wants to spit at his feet.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he snarls at him. He tries to get up but he's held by restraints of the vibranium variety.

“Leave us,” T'Challa says to Shuri. She watches T’Challa worriedly but moves out the room.

“I said let me die!” Erik shouts at him. There's something wild and clawing at his chest now. Some frantic beast fighting its way to escape. He doesn’t want to be caged. He cannot stand to be caged. He’ll die a free man, not a slave not a prisoner. Damn it, his blood was supposed to be watering the sea now.

He lunges for T’Challa again but is pulled up short.

“You did die,” T’Challa tells him.

Erik blinks. “What?”

“Your heart stopped. You weren’t breathing. You were dead for three minutes. We brought you back.”

“For your justice?” Erik spits. “I’m one of you enough now that you can play judge jury and executioner for me?!”

“For my selfishness,” T’Challa replies and its not the answer Erik expects. “I am not a good a man as I hoped I was.” It sounds like a confession. “I didn’t want you to die.”

“Newsflash cuz,” Erik says. “Everyone dies.”

“Not by my hand then,” T’Challa says.

“So you confine me to something worse than death?” Erik laughs bitterly. He jerks again then, straining at his restraints. “Screw that! I’d rather have died at your hand cuz, than live in your cage!”

“Erik,”

“No,” says Erik. “Get the hell out of here. The next time I get free I will kill you. I will raze everything of yours to the ground.”

T’Challa is silent for a moment and then he says softly. “Recover.”

Hes gone, ghosting from the room before Erik can summon words to his mouth.

 

* * *

They send him unconscious when they transfer him to his cell. He’s in the infirmary one moment and then the next he’s waking up in a room he’s never seen before. It’s not large though it is a little roomier than most prison cells he’s seen before. But’s its cleverly built. Everything is made up of smooth vibranium, even the floor. There are no ridges anywhere, the edges of his cot are rounded. Even the damn toilet is made of vibranium. The rarest metal in the world and he's shitting in it.

He doesn't have a mattress, there's no place to hide anything. There are cameras that cover every angle. He has the option to darken the glass wall of his cell to use the bathroom but if the glass doesn’t turn translucent 15 seconds after the toilet does its automatic flush, guards appear. Erik tests their response times studiously in the first week of his jail time. The same thing happens when he turns of the shower. The water also disappears down a series of holes too small to do anything with.

T’Challa visits him on the third day after he’s moved to his cell.

“What’s my sentence cuz?” he asks lazily.

“Life,” said T’Challa. “You took too many lives cousin, planned to take more. You were going to kill Shuri.”

“I’m surprised she healed me up,”

“Believe me,” said T’Challa, “she did not want to.”

Erik snorts. Seems like the princess really is the smartest one here.

“So now that I’m all comfy in here and you’ve gotten some time to prepare whatever speech you wanted, why don’t you tell me why I’m really here cuz?”

T’Challa’s face is implacable and for a moment he is a monarch that makes Erik feel small, no matter that he has crumbled countries. Then T’Challa’s shoulders droop and he said:

“You were right. The time has come for Wakanda to step out of the shadows, to lend aid to our brothers and sisters. But I will not do it the way you have done. I intend to do this as peacefully as I can. I cannot risk my brothers and sisters in a war. I will not bring war when I do not have to.”

“What are are you going to do then?” Erik's scorn is palpable.

“Outreach programs. Sharing of technology and information. Changing perceptions. Making people want to change perceptions.”

“Half measures!” Erik snarls. “You think that’ll work? Then you’re as dumb as you look. They’ll just drain you dry and throw you away! They don’t care a damn about us!”

“I refuse to believe everyone out there is evil,” T’Challa says sharply. Then his voice softens. “You think I don’t know that they will try to take advantage of us? You think I don’t know they will feel threatened by us? You think I don’t know I will be opening Wakanda to attack?”

Erik opens his mouth but T’Challa beats him to the punch.

“If you truly cared about our people you would not want to risk them in a war that doesn’t have to be.”

“If I cared?!” Erik snarls. “You…!” his voice stutters in sheer rage, in sheer incredulity that T’Challa can even dare to claim to know Erik’s feelings about this. “You have no idea!!” He’s up now, face separated from T’Challa’s by the glass, eyes locked into his, glaring. “No freaking idea...!”

“I know you don’t send people you love into war unless it is absolutely necessary!” T’Challa barks at him and he’s the monarch of the country that should have been Erik’s home, again. He softens again in the next moment. “I know you care. I know you do. So help prove me right. Help me not go to war. Help me save, not just this generation but the generation after us. You’ve seen what war does to countries, to families, to children. Help me prevent that. Please cousin, help prove my way right.”

Erik’s silent and he’s vibrating with tension. This is...this is a stop gap, a weakness bared to light. T’Challa’s plan will never work. But maybe Erik can do something with that.

“What is it exactly that you want me to do cuz?” he said and T’Challa relaxes as if Erik has conceded defeat. Erik thinks someone should tell him not to relax until your opponent is dead in the ground.

“I was told it is hard for a good man to be king. Help me see the traps, the plots, the plans that our enemies might lay for us. Help me find a way to make this work no matter how much people try to stop us. Help me see what I can’t.”

“Do I get out this cell?” Erik asks and T’Challa shakes his head.

“But I thought it might make your confinement more bearable”

Erik laughs at that. “Stick me in a cell and then try to make it pretty. Ain’t that just like you cuz?”

T’Challa opens his mouth but Erik beats him this time. “Alright,” he says. “I’ll do it. But under one condition.”

T’Challa stiffens. “What?”

“You make plans for if this plan of yours fail.” T’Challa’s eyes widen and Erik ploughs ruthlessly on. “And I want to see them. I don’t need details I just need to know they’re there. That’s my condition cuz. Take it or leave it.”

T’Challa thinks about it, eyes going distant and then he nods. “I accept.”

“Well look at that,” says Erik. “We agree on something.”

To his surprise T’Challa’s mouth twitches into a smile. “I’ll be seeing you then cousin.” He turns to leave and pauses. “And Erik, if you ever try to harm my family, I will tear you apart.”

Then he's gone.

“See ya later cuz,” Erik tells the empty air. He settles back on his cot. Sooner or later T’Challa’s plan will fail and Erik's will be in motion once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much those of you who have read, commented and given kudos!!!!! I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

 

He meets Shuri a week later when she comes to make some incomprehensible adjustments to the software governing his cell.

“Hey princess,” he says. There’s bite in his voice. He hates being a prisoner, hates it. Shuri is the first person he’s seen besides the guards in a week.

Shuri ignores him. Smart girl but Erik doesn’t feel like being ignored today.

“No hard feelings, right?” It’s the one thing he’s sure will get a response out of her beside goading her about her brother. But Erik wants to leave that wasp’s nest for a time he really needs to get information out of her.

Shuri grits her teeth but doesn’t reply. Erik’s impressed a little. Princess ain’t so bad, at least she’s not hopelessly trusting like her brother.

“I mean,” Erik continues, “It wasn’t personal you know. You were in the way.”

Shuri whirls at last. “I saved your life,” she said. “You tried to kill me when you didn’t have to.”

Erik opens his mouth to reply but Shuri apparently possesses the same speaking speed as her brother. She talks right over him.

“You owe me.”

“I owe you?” Erik is incredulous. “You saved me to put me in a cage and I owe you?”

“If not for your life then for trying to kill me. You want to get rid of hard feelings then you do one thing for me.”

That has his attention.

“What do you want ‘lil cuz?”

“I want you to answer a question for me,” Shuri says. “But you’ve got to think about it. No cop outs. No telling me it can't be done. I want an answer Erik. A good, detailed one.”

It not what he was expecting. The hell it is with his wakandan cousins? Why can't they ever react like he expects them to? They used to.

But Shuri is staring at him, eyes intense and he can see that this means something to her. That if he comes up with the answer to her question, she really will let go of the fact that he tried to kill her.

“Fine,” he shrugs. “Not like I’ve got anything to do here anyway. Hit me cuz.” She says one line and walks away.

“How do you free the opressed without becoming the opressors?”

_Shit._

 

* * *

 

Princess ain't half bad at this shit. He’s got T’Challa thinking about his plan and now she has him thinking about T’Challa’s plan. He wants to ignore it, tries to ignore her question but Shuri, like her brother, wears a presence. It’s Wakandan royalty but more than that she is princess of Wakanda not just by blood but by the role she plays. He’s served under many men who thought they had comanding presences but he can’t think of one that had the intensity to match that of Shuri’s eyes. She and her brother both had spines of steel...no vibranium. Erik sighs and decides he might as well stop trying to avoid the question. A day might come when he needs to be on the princesses’ good side.

 

* * *

 

Erik wakes up practically naked. He stares at what used to be his clothes and then asks his guards to see Shuri. T’Challa comes instead.

“The hell is this cuz?” He asks. He holds up the shreds of white cloth.

“Ahh apparently Shuri designed this cloth for prisoners to ensure they don’t try to kill themselves or other by garroting or hanging. Or to aid escape.”

 T’challa coughs delicately. The bastard is trying not to smile. “It falls apart when a certain threshold level of strain is reached.”

“Well you can tell the princess that she’s got a design flaw because I’m pretty sure I didn’t try to hang myself or garotte anybody.” Erik says acidly.

“In my humble opinion,” said T’Challa still trying not to laugh. “I think it got twisted under you. I’ll pass your complaints to Shuri.”

Erik gives him a flat look and throws the scraps of cloth at him. It hits the glass with an unsatisfying flutter.

T’Challa moves to the dip. The dip is the only opening into his cell besides the doors. He drops in the extra clothes he brought with him. The clothes slide through the slot, then Erik has to wait while the opening on T'Challa’s end is closed, then something happens to the objects in the dip when both ends are sealed and finally the little slot on his side opens. It’s just big enough for a sealed tray of food and when it closes Erik can’t even find the seam.

Erik snatches the clothes and tugs them on.

“So how's the plan coming cuz?

“It’s coming,” said T’Challa. “There are a lot of intricacies and considerations to deal with but I feel like we are progressing at a good pace.”

“And how’s the other plans coming?” Erik’s eyes are daring.

“They’re coming,” said T’Challa shortly. Erik huffs softly with laughter. It is first bit of real pleasure he’s felt since he’s been in this cage. Serves him damn right.

 

* * *

 

He doesn't see anyone after that for 18 days. He can't even mark the walls to see the passage of time. On the fifth day he's feeling trapped in his very skin. He paces like a caged beast. He works out. He tries to jolt news from his guards. He twists his clothes to shreds so much that they almost stop giving him replacements.

It’s not that he isn't patient. Erik can wait for months to get a crack at a mark but that’s a job. He has focus, a goal but this? This endless waiting for nothing, this existing in only four walls of silver is the closest thing to hell he’s come. He understands now, so much more intimately, what it is to choose death over slavery. Erik doesn’t think he can bear a lifetime of this. He’ll kill somebody, anybody, just to get an end. He doesn’t have anything to lose.

T’Challa appears on day nineteen and Erik wants to twist his neck, hear the satisfying pop as it breaks, see his body fall limp and un-puppeted.

“I’m sorry,” T’Challa says. “I’ve neglected you.”

“Don’t mind me Cuz,” he says. “I’m just rotting in here.”

It’s good to see the flicker of remorse cross T’Challa’s face but it also makes Erik feel disgusted. He’s weak. He’s so damn weak. He’ll run Wakanda to the ground, lose their chance to free his people.

We’ve made the official announcements,” T’Challa tells him. “Things have been hectic.”

“I’m sure,” Erik says mockingly. “You got any thing for me cuz or can I get back to decomposing?”

T’Challa pulls out a tablet from behind his back and slides it through the dip. Erik snatches it when it comes through.

“Basic information,” said T’Challa,  "of how people are reacting. Figures we think should be watched. Anything else you want, request it on the tablet and it’ll be sent to you.”

“Fine,” says Erik. He’s paging through the tablet already deliberately ignoring his cousin. T’Challa stands there for a second longer likes he’s expecting Erik to say something. Erik doesn’t and he leaves. With T’Challa gone Erik really starts to examine the tablet. It wasn’t like the beads they wore, not the same tech. The tablet can’t connect to the internet. It can’t even connect to the Wakandan mainframe. He’s literally on a different LAN, created just for him. He can't hack anywhere with the thing.

He smacks it hard to see if it will shatter. The tablet takes the blow like a pro and its unbroken screen stares back smugly at Erik. Erik resigns himself to not getting anything useful out of the tablet either. Looks like he's  stuck playing T’Challa’s game for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I don't know how this chapter is. I hope it's okay. Thanks to all you guys that read, commented and gave kudos!!!

He uses the tablet to pull footage of the press release. Then he checks the responses of various countries and their communications to Wakanda. He uses his knowledge of people who he knows will be interested in playing this new field and pulls files on the names T’Challa have provided for him. He gets down into countries’ finances, resources, allies, grey and wet work ordered for the last five years, shortages and wars cold and most assuredly otherwise.

Sixty-five hours later he has the beginnings of a web and his eyes are reminding him that he hasn’t slept. He eyes his work and decides he's reached a good stopping point.  He’s up again in ten hours and contemplates the information while gnawing on his dinner. He wishes he had some paper but figures they won’t give him anything to write with. Pens, pencils and styluses are all great weapons. Paper can be too if you’re skilled enough. Still it wouldn't hurt to ask. Maybe they actually might be stupid enough to give him it.

* * *

 

“Erik.”

Erik blinks up at T’Challa from his work.

“You should rest,” T’Challa tells him. Erik snorts at this. Concern for him is hilarious when they're the ones who've trapped him in here. Besides, he's on the cusp of figuring out a connection and he wants silence.

“Erik,” T’Challa begins again.

“Shut up cuz,” he snaps as he teases out the lines of motivation and means. Aww a certain politician has a daughter with a medical condition, an expensive one. Nice motivation. Erik tags him and sets about delving into his finances. When he looks up again T’Challa is gone.

 

* * *

 

_Erik at work is just as fascinating as Erik in motion, T’Challa thinks. When he fights Erik is all passion but here when he plans, it’s when T’Challa can see the intelligence that lies hidden in his frame walled behind a cool careless exterior. Erik is dangerous. He’s known it, seen it but somehow this impresses that thought into his mind much more strongly. He’ll have to be very careful when dealing with him._

 

* * *

 

Erik identifies three more people they should keep an eye on and gives them several companies to watch carefully. It’s not enough of course. Wakanda has stirred up the world something fierce. It’s almost as if aliens had dropped from the sky again. Only this time the aliens have been here all along. For some reason people are more offended at Wakanda. Eric snarls at the news reports he watches. Typical. People feel betrayed as if it was the right of the rest of the world to have whatever Wakanda had made.

Erik has had it with his people being exploited as much as he has had it with Wakanda sitting back while their brothers and sisters suffered.  

He’s actually glad though, that he doesn’t have T’Challa’s job of liaising with the rest of the African nations, the ones that have been suffering while Wakanda has been thriving. But T’Challa handles them well, as well as he or anyone else can. It’s not a pretty situation and Erik doubts he would have been as tactful as his cousin. He doesn’t get much information though. Whatever happens between Wakanda and the rest has not been made public.

* * *

 

Erik feeds the Wakandans information for flight plans and the identities of several spies which have been dispatched. He wonders what his cousin will do when he gets them. The answer is not what he would have expected. Erik’s starting to realize it rarely will be.

T’Challa takes the spies to lunch in a room that can only show a preapproved view and then caringly dispatches them back to their home country. Idiotic but bold. It’s a power play. A gentle caution and a laugh in the face all at once. Erik can appreciate it for all that he thinks dead spies are the best messages one should send back. Discreetly of course.  

It’s all elementary stuff though. Erik doesn’t doubt that the Wakandans can do this on their own. It’s a test to see what he’ll do. Which as far as tests go is elementary in and of itself. Still his cousin is probably pleased and probably uses it to show the council that hey, keeping this super dangerous relative of mine alive, is actually a good idea. Erik doesn’t care. Gotta to crawl before you can kill and he needs a functioning web.

It takes him another week to supplement his web to the scale that he decides that is acceptable and by then he has arrived the furthest he can reach on information gained from digital sources alone. He needs hard, real-time info and the kind of stuff that you don’t find in the cyber trail. Time for his cousin to make himself useful.

* * *

 

“Yo cuz,” he says, “I need some people to do some snooping around for me.”

T’Challa blinks. “Snooping around?”

“Spying. Information gathering. Intelligence. The stuff you have to get physically. A little bit of stalking, a little bit breaking and entering, probably digging through garbage, nothing too big.” He shrugs.

“Ahh,” says T’Challa. He looks like he's not sure what to make of the request but he nods and says,” Give us the specifics and well see if we can accommodate them.”

Erik nods and sends of his file to whichever the poor bastard is that is tasked with finding and giving him all the information, he wants.

T’Challa lingers. “Are you well?” He asks after a moment.

Erik looks up at him and then bursts into laughter. “Well?” He laughs again and when he speaks his voice is scalding with derision. “I'm a slave working for a black master. Sure, the digs are cushier but it’s the same thing. The hell I ain’t well!”

His cousin flinches and Erik wants to dig the knife in a little more but the one good thing about T’Challa being a good man, at least in his own mind, is that his conscience will do all the work for Erik. Maybe he’ll be out of here before he thought.

“I’m sorry,” T’Challa tells him.

“Then you should have let me die!” Erik snarls.

“Do you really wish that?”

“Are you gonna open the door and kill me?” Erik asks, “cause that’s the only way I’m even bothering to answer that question.”

“Why do you seek death?” T’Challa asks, like he’s actually confused. Erik pities his dumb cousin. His dumb cousin who’s never known hardship so bad death was a kindness. How does T’Challa ever thinks he’s going to change the world if he can’t even see it for what it really is?

He didn’t realize that he’s asked the question aloud until T’Challa replied.

“That’s why I need you to be my eyes. That's why I need you alive. This has been your dream far longer than it’s been mine. I can't help our people if you’re dead.”

Erik chooses to let any expression bleed out of his face. He's not ready to face the force of T’Challa’s words as innocent and idealistic as they sound. He chooses the safest answer, the answer that leaves him Erik and not N’Jadaka.

“I’m not your anything cuz, not while I have a choice.”

T’Challa leaves but before he exits he looks back and says, “You’re still my cousin.”

Erik must be losing his edge because his wakandan cousins seem to be having the last word a lot lately. It's not a situation that leaves him pleased. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, hit me with your comments. I love to hear from you guys.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! The response to this has been lovely!! But I'm hella nervous about this chapter guys, no kidding. So tell me if it's okay....

_T'Challa's POV:_

 

The elders are all still very unsure about this direction that he has chosen for them. Its daring and ambitious and it opens them up in a lot of ways and Wakanda is not used to being even slightly exposed, whether or not they're vulnerable. But it has to be done. T’Challa knows it has to be done. It’s the right thing to do. Their isolation has kept them safe but now that they’re in a position of strength, its time they extend what safety they can to others. And T’Challa has to make this work, show them it can be done.

They start planning, start making contingencies, start thinking through programs that will do the most good not just for now but in the future. Nakia helps. She’s seen more than anyone else, she’s been at the level of those whom they’re trying to help and knows what it is they actually need. This isn’t a time for grand gestures, it’s a time for smart, thoughtful ones.

But first he sets of to do one more thing. He buys Erik's old home, N’Jobu’s old home, the place where Erik's dreams were born and his nightmares were realized. It’s a good place to start.  A grounded place, a real place, a place to right old wrongs. Oakland is also place where Erik first heard of fairy tales, it’s a place T’Challa would like to tell those tales to others again.

He visits it personally because he has to, because all of this started here, in an apartment in the middle of nowhere special but where a great wrong was done. This was the place that the catalyst had occurred, the event that that would shape all of their lives. His, Erik’s, Shuri’s and Wakanda’s future. He brings Shuri because Oakland is where the cure should start and they should start with the people they're doing it for, the youths, the future generations. Shuri is a part of that and she'll probably be a part of it longer than he will. He brings Shuri because she’ll never be queen but she is the princess and this is their responsibility. He brings Shuri because they’re both Erik’s cousins.

He also brings her because she’s prettier and much more personable than he is. And he doesn’t understand half her tech babble anyway.

They' re an instant internet sensation. The king and princess of Wakanda appearing in Oakland, showing of an impossible ship. The kids who have phones film everything as Shuri tells them all about the ship, giving information governments would have given their eyeteeth for, to kids governments had bothered to look all that closely. It’s exactly the impression T’Challa needs to give. It’s exactly what he wants to show the world; that they're not here to beg, barter and accumulate allies and aid. They're here to help. And they've come out into the open to help those who truly need it.

“Who are you?” asks a kid, the only one who noticed him standing of to the side. And the look on his face isn’t fear or wariness, it’s awe.

Fairy tales, T’Challa thinks and he suddenly knows it’s going be okay.

 

* * *

 

The news conference is hell. Everyone is clamoring to know if this is the truth. Is Wakanda is really as they’ve shown and if so how? Some people accept it as fact and instantly try for trade, others accuse them of not being humanitarian with their technology. A few others are wondering what it is they have up their sleeves. A why now? Why have you shown yourself now? Is it a power play? A threat?

He’s gone viral, their ships have gone viral. The spears have gone viral. Shuri’s more popular than anyone else.  People are wondering how this will affect the Sokovia accords. T’Challa says the elder-sanctioned statements to the press and then starts scheduling meetings. It’s going to be a busy, busy year, maybe a busy life.

But he starts with the people who have been the quietest. His own african brothers and sisters. They’d expected an outcry of course. Wakanda has had a freedom and technology and protection and medication that they didn’t share. Their own people have been the most slighted.

Of course, T’Challa understands the reasoning for Wakanda’s separation. The power and technology they have isn't to be used lightly, isn't to be given to persons not mature enough of mind and spirit to use it, even if their hearts are right. Erik is living proof of that. But still, like Nakia tells him, they still could have done something. Send out more people like Nakia to save the enslaved, be a vengeful shadow for those evil men who work in the night. They could have done more while still safeguarding themselves.

He needs to apologize, he needs to be honest about it but also, the hardest thing hell have to do is set boundaries and limits. He cannot drain Wakanda dry, trying to save everyone. He is still only king of Wakanda and he has a responsibility to his citizens. It’s going to be one hell of a balancing act And T’Challa doesn't think he was ever that good a tightrope walker. But he’s got to try.

Their analysts are already at work on figuring out the response of various countries and how they should in turn respond to them. Soon they’ll be able to start scheduling talks with other countries but not now.

The main thing they're doing right now is outreach programs and refugee settlements. But they aren't having the refugees in Wakanda. W’kabi was right when he said that bringing refugees in brings their problems too. T’Challa has seen how much other countries have suffered from refugees flooding borders and clashes between citizens and those they bring in. But also, he need to do this in a way that will help grow other countries. These programs must be treated as a short-term solution while more long-term ones are being arranged. He can’t and won’t allow things to continue in a way that leaves persons living in camps for year and years. It’s not right.

They want to start some school rooms too, teaching trades, getting the young people to better themselves and give them something marketable, keep them from starving. The good thing about Wakandan tech is that it’s very not intrusive so they can integrate it into classrooms pretty easily without having to add much infrastructure. When the countries ask what he wants from them, T’Challa says simply:

“We want you to let us help. We want you to let your people have aid. We aren't seeking to take over, we just want to help you stand up on your feet better.”

It’s difficult for anyone to understand. Nothing comes free in this world. But they're hoping that their brethren will give them a chance.

To the rest of the world, things must go slowly. Medical tech is about all they’re really sharing right now. It’s all they can trust the governments of the world with and on the plus side, it’ll do the most good. Anything else that goes out will be as a result of the outreach programs. They’re going to help people not governments.  It’s not going to be easy, but T’Challa is willing to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Erik next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same thing we do every day Pinky, try to take over the world. Or Erik uses the internet to take over the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading, commenting and giving kudos!!!

 

T’Challa came through. Erik is told to send instructions to the operatives he’s requested via his tablet. Erik doesn’t hesitate to do so. He’s got 10 people working for him though he’s not sure they know who they’re actually working for. But that doesn’t matter, not right now. All that matters is that they do what he wants. He’s got them eavesdropping on some senators in various countries and he’s got a couple watching known drop points for assassins. No need to start this of with T’challa getting assassinated, currently he’s the only thing that’s keeping Erik alive. He sends two more operatives to watch hackers who he thinks might be good enough to hack the Wakandan network.

Wakanda has never been taken in since its conception but this is different. Military isn’t all what’s needed. He puts the next part of his plans in play. He’s been taught not only to sow dissent but to sow accord. He sends T’Challa a basic formula of posts for social media, from certain groups to other particular groups.

He plays with age, sex, location and education. He capitalizes on each of the factors, writing just what he needs, to get people in each focus group, to their side. People are more likely to listen if they think it’s one of their own speaking. The wakandans just have to be clever when making the fake profiles to post from.

Then he sends his cousin a different stream of messages. These are also from the rest of the world, so to speak, but meant to turn them against each other. He sows hostility against people who are protesting against Wakanda. It’s not just supportive like the previous messages but actively on the offense. Buts he's clever in how he words them. It’s all reasonable argument but he dusts them with a bit of human passion and suddenly they could have written by a neighbor, a friend, a brother, a sister.

That done he sets off on his next bit of business. He scouts the internet for appropriate bloggers. He doesn’t choose the popular travel ones but the ones that are lower down on the list, the ones that are actually interested in the culture and the people of a place. The idiot kinds that risk getting their organs black-marketed just to show the real vibe of a country.  Erik then tells T’Challa to invite them in for a peek of Wakanda. It’s up to his cousin to decide which areas are approved.

He grabs a couple of foodie bloggers too and tosses them at T’Challa as well. Food always brings people together and if it’s one thing that people are accepting of from other cultures it’s the food. Just look at how many Chinese and Thai restaurants litter America and they all get sale, even the SOBS that give you food poisoning or taste like shit just cause they’re convenient.  He thinks about his own Wakanda experience: Exotic dish- heart shaped herb- 1/10. Tastes like a bitch. Will eat again only because of the health benefits. Currently only barbecued version available.

Then he goes hunting for the normal. He searches for every cliché person he can find and drags them into files for the wakandans to peruse. He gets a barbie doll prom queen, a rich jock who was racist since the day he was born, one of those quiet nerds, one of the sassy nerds everybody seems to love these days, the patriotic wanna serve my country, whole family’s been doing it for a shit amount of years kids, to join in the party. He tosses in a player of the male and female variety, plus a soccer mom or two and then sets about creating similar groups from the countries that speak out the most against Wakanda. He needs their word to spread. It needs to look like they're not hiding anything and he has no doubt that the wakandans can coordinate a country wide, spin-doctoring exercise.

But he needs those normal people to go back and talk. He needs them to offer their opinions and their photographs and their videos. It they bring in leaders people will know they’re trying to shit them over which is why he's pulling on the normal. People don't like being told what to think so you've gotta trick ‘em into it.

Then he starts looking for the celebrities. Where are all those do-gooders who adopt African babies to look nice to the world? Might as well get something out of them. He tosses them to T’Challa now with some suggestions. Ball’s back in his cousin’s court now.

In response to his spate of profiles he gets a link to Shuri’s vlog. Its newly started and it’s all about how wakandans do ordinary things. Which is actually to show that it’s not that different. Its spin-doctored to hell and back but it’s actually pretty subtle; the regular public won’t notice. Erik makes some comments, things he thinks she should cut out, others she should add in and warns her about some of the footage in which she shows too much tech.

A few hours later he gets a revised version. He scans through it and gives it the okay. His reward for his help is to get candy crush downloaded to his tablet. It is at this point that Erik realizes that he’s reached a new low because he’s almost pathetically grateful. Although even flicking Tiffy is travelling further than him right now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter but only because I'm balking at writing the actual meeting. XD. Hope you guys enjoy! Thank you so much to you all who are reading, commenting and giving kudos. Like you guys make me so happy!!!

“The council wants some explanations about where you’re going with this,” T’Challa explains to him when he comes to see him three days later. “And it might benefit you to not be out of the loop, see the whole picture.”

“You want to stick me in a meeting,” Erik’s voice is flat. “with the old farts.”

“Shuri and I will be there too,” T’Challa says like that’s somehow supposed to make this more appealing.

“Hell no,” Erik says.

“You’re attending the meeting in person,” T’Challa tries to tempt.

“In chains,” Erik says because there’s no way they’re going let him walk in there without some kind of restraint. Hell he doubts it’s even going to be anything as simple as handcuffs.

“Restraints,” T’Challa says. “In a chair. But it has a view.”

Erik gives him a look.

“Please cousin?”

Erik blinks, narrows his eyes at his cousin and puts out a shot into the dark. “You two just don't want to suffer though the meetings alone don't you?” He says after a moment. The flicker of guilt suffuse with amusement in T’Challa’s face tells him he's right. “Ain’t I being tortured enough?” Erik demands.

T’Challa throws up his hands. “We are banging our heads at some of them,” he said. “You seem to have gotten them to move pretty quickly so we thought we’d capitalize on that. And yes, it’s probably going to be less long if you’re there to explain everything instead of passing the questions back and forth through a medium. And,” he added grudgingly, “we wanted company to suffer since half of this meeting is about the things you set into motion. Misery does love company after all.”

Children, Erik thinks, both of them. “In that case,” Erik says, “you two should come by more.”

“Deal,” T’Challa said.

“What?!”  Erik sputters. T’Challa leaps for freedom before Erik can reply.  It’s the damn most graceful run Erik has ever seen somebody do.

“Just cause you’re not here to hear me say no cuz, doesn’t mean that I agree!” Erik yells at his back. “T’Challa!”

Well shit. Cuz is lucky he’s in his cage because there’s no other way he’d get him to do anything. Oh well, might as use the opportunity to scout a way out.  

 

* * *

 

They gas him. No kidding. He’s gassed until he’s unconscious and when he awakes he’s already in the council chambers. He’s strapped to a chair by vibranium restraints. His arms are pinned down and his legs and he’s got bands across his chest and waist. Even his thighs have extra bands on them.

“Really?” he says. “Overkill much? I didn’t even get the walk. Don’t you know you’re supposed to exercise your prisoners frequently cuz. I’m sure it’s somewhere in the Geneva conventions.”

“You wouldn’t have let me get the walk either,” T’Challa pointed out. “And I did talk them out of putting a band around your neck.”

Eric freezes for a bare moment at the thought of being collared. He relaxes in the next second. He’s glad that his cousin had at least that much sense Or Erik might have been forced to kill him slowly instead of quick and he’s not that into torture.

T’Challa continues as if oblivious to Erik’s reaction but Erik can tell he isn’t. “At least being unconscious saved you from being awake through the indignity of being laser shaved by Shuri.”

“Say what?!” Erik demands. But sure enough his weeks of growth are gone. “I mean, thanks for the shave but I could have done it on my own.”

“I’m afraid you’ve been persuasive enough with your skills that we weren’t willing to hand you a razor.” There was a pause and then T’Challa adds softly “And you haven’t been persuasive enough that I am sure you would not cut your throat.”

“Screw you!” Erik snarls, rage uncoiling and lashing out. “Screw you to hell and back!” T’Challa raises his hands but stays silent. He’s already said all that he can say on that score and Erik’s already heard it all. Erik snarls wordlessly at him, muscles bulging and pushing against the restraints. Erik flexes his strength, feeling the extra strength given to him by the herb come into play but the restraints don’t move. Still he tries. If he could just get his fingers around T’Challa’s throat and crush it, it’s be worth it if he’s put down by the Dora.  It takes a long moment for Erik to calm some and his rational mind to reassert itself. Not yet. He can’t do that yet.

When it’s clear that he’s calmer, T’Challa says almost conversationally:

“Hey I talked Shuri out of shaving you to look like Tony Stark.”

Erik’s anger abruptly dissipates as he considers the sheer horror of waking up shaved like Tony Stark. He almost, almost thanks T’Challa.

“Princess got a sick sense of humor,” he says after a moment. T’Challa half smiles.

“You’re only seeing the tip of the iceberg,” his cousin assures him. “I’ve been at her mercy since she was born.”

In times like this it’s hilariously easy to see the bond between T’Challa and his sister. Erik hasn’t seen much siblings that genuinely and openly care for each other like this, not to mention they’re a brother-sister pair with a large age gap. But they do. In a softer world Erik thinks it would be something to envy. Here in the real world, it’s just a weakness, just a thing that can cut you open, leaving you bleeding for years. Erik knows the pain that loving someone opens you to. It’s why he’s never loved anyone since.

“I’d say you have my sympathy,” Erik tells him. “But that would be a lie.”

“Oh and you balk at lying?” T’Challa’s eyes are softer, not yet smiling but poking gentle fun at him.

“Why I’m an honest man cuz,” he says, tilting back his head to give the impression of ease. It’s only then he realizes that the chair he’s chained to is made so that he sprawled out lazily. It’s how he would have sit if given the choice and Erik wonders if it’s for him or a show for the elders. Actually, it’s probably both. If both his cousins aren’t divas Erik will eat his shoe.

T’Challa tilts his head. “You have never lied to me,” he says thoughtfully.

“See,” Erik says, “honest man.”

“Still doesn’t mean you balk at lying,”

“See now you’re trying to pick a fight,” Erik replies but its strangely lacking in heat or malice. Damn he really is glad to be out of that cell, even if he’s just in a bigger one.

T’Challa laughs and its only then Erik sees the lightening of tension in his face. He’s not worried about Erik though, not now. He’s worried about the upcoming meeting.

“The real fight is coming,” his cousin replies, confirming Erik’s suspicion of that the meeting isn’t going to be all roses. Looks like he’s still the life of the party after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meeting. In which Shuri is really the hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The meeting didn't come out quite like I'd wanted but I hope you all still enjoy!

The elders all come in and they don’t look happy when they see him there. Queen Ramonda gives him a look that says he’s still scum under her shoes for attempting to kill her son but she doesn’t say anything to him. Erik gives her a sunny smile because he doesn’t regret one shit bit of it.

The elders settle into their places and Erik has fun meeting their gazes and smirking at all of them. I was your king once, he mentally sends to them. I ruled you old farts. From the stiffening of many of them his message has been received. Good. He’s sure his pleasure shows on his face.

He’s not quite in the circle of chairs, he’s pulled off to the side but he’s still at the top of the circle, close to T’Challa. Shuri stands on the other side of her brother. She’s not an elder but she is in charge of the tech outreach program. The look she gives Erik is a cool neutral. He thinks this is probably the closest she’ll ever come to a game face.

The first part of the meeting is basically a briefing. The wakandans go over everything that has been done in the last few weeks. At another time it might have been boring but Erik realizes that T’Challa was right when he said Erik coming to the meeting would keep him in the loop. There are things going on he doesn’t know. Things that are happening under the radar of the news and things that haven’t been allowed to feed onto his tablet. T’Challa’s talks with the other African nations being one of them. It takes him a while to piece together how T’Challa has chosen to treat with them and when he does he is equal parts enraged and impressed. Wakanda is still protecting its heart, still keeping so much of themselves away from their brethren but at the same time Erik’s been around the world and he’s seen how aid efforts can turn sour for both the giver and the receiver. It’s not a pleasant position to be in. This is exactly why Erik chose to do things the way he did.

Finally though, they come to the parts that Erik has directly contributed to but it’s not alone. His plans have been interwoven with the wakandans’ ideas. The false profiles are out along with real wakandan profiles, joining the social media world at last. They're are tentative and friendly, touching a world they have been cut off from for too long and it's working to garner a sort of sympathy, making people believe that they are technologically advanced but socially stunted of a sort, unsure of how to deal with other nationals. They are expressive with their culture, working hard to ensure that it is not lost as the gates have been drawn down. They even throw in funny stories about attempting to get passports for the first time since wakandans rarely travel outside. They talk with sadness about their brethren in the building that had exploded.

T’Challa isn’t on any social media but it’s clear from what his people say that they consider him a good king, that they trust him and that he is close with his people, not aloof and also well respected. There is an impression of him watching over everything and keeping them safe. Shuri’s vlog provides the counterpoint.

Everyone loves to have a new royal family to goggle at and create scandals. Shuri is bubbly, smart, young and beautiful. Moreover, she is a leader. She’s heading the tech exchange, it’s clear that she has some role in building the actual tech even if people are still unaware of how much she has a hand in. She talks about her brother in the way she usually does and she makes him human to the rest of the world. It also puts the royal family in a united front, shows them squeaky clean as if they have no dark secrets, as if they’re not keeping a human being locked in their basement.

Erik would have much rather be a skeleton in their closet. As least he wouldn’t be in this damn cage! His muscle bunch but a flicker from T’Challa’s eyes tells him he’s noticed. The glance is warning but not from T’Challa directly. His dear cousin doesn’t want the elders to notice. Erik bares his teeth in a grin that’s all threatening. T’Challa ignores him. Shuri rolls her eyes at him and the elders definitely notice though they follow T’Challa’s example and ignore him.

By Erik’s time it’s been an hour and a quarter since the meeting started as every progress report was made in excruciating detail for the elders who are determined to parse everything through. They are the check against the king and they take their job seriously. But Erik isn’t the only one who is bored. T’Challa of course manages to look like he’s sincerely interested, maybe cuz actually is. It wouldn’t surprise Erik if he’s inhuman like that. But Shuri is shuffling her feet slightly. She’s been standing for the entire duration of the meeting and clearly wants to sit since she’s equally clearly not one of the Dora Milaje who don’t move as they stand guard.

A few minutes later she’s subtly checking out the room for an extra chair she knows is not there. Her shoulders slump, her eyes flicker to the doorway likes she contemplating how much notice she would get if she drags in a chair from elsewhere. Her gaze moves away from the door and goes off into the distance and Erik can see the moment she gets an idea. She moves from T’Challa’s side, graceful and sure, and heads towards Erik.

Oh hell no.

Hell no.

Nada princess.

Shuri off course can’t read his mind. She plops across his lap settling a hand on his thigh and another on his knee to balance herself. Erik quickly considers if she’s close enough that he can rip out her jugular with his teeth but Shuri had taken that into consideration because she’d sat just too far away for him to succeed. Her eyes flickered to his teeth and Erik grins at her.

“What up princess? Felt like torturing me a bit today?”

Shuri screws up her face and says in a disgust so well faked he mightn’t have been able to tell it wasn’t true, if he didn’t know it was.

“Of course not. I’m just treating you like I do any of my cousins.”

“I'm your only cousin,” Erik points out.

She shrugs innocently, guilelessly. “I am still learning.”

Erik grins at her. It says ‘screw you princess,' quite succinctly. She smiles back at him, brilliant and cheerful. The meeting continues after an awkward pause around their conversation.

“Are we sure that using social media like this would actually work. We all know how easy opinions can change and it can all backfire on us!” One of the elders argued.

He feels a tap from Shuri on his thigh. At first, he thinks she’s just resettling herself but it happens again. He blinks, looks at her watching the elder intently as if she listening to every word he says and understands. This is someone who is not keen on moving away from their isolationist policies. This is someone who will oppose T’Challa’s plan.

Why the hell are they telling him to watch out for that elder? Erik isn’t for T’Challa’s plan either. Wait...he’s supposed to be. He had agreed to be...so they’re pulling him in, acting like he’s for them. Alright best play along if the long game is the only way he’ll get out of here.

“But social media is a large part the world today, even in Wakanda,” T’Challa points out. “It’s how the rest of the world connects to each other. If we truly want to integrate ourselves with the world, this is the fastest way to do this. It is also the fastest way to get our goals out there and the fastest way to garner support.”

“Mob mentality,” another elder says after a moment. “You are directing the mob through this.”

Erik gets a gentle poke on his leg. This one isn’t warning. ‘This elder is on our side it says.’

"Which leads us to our next points,” another elder declares. A brush against his knee made to look like she was shifting her weight. It’s not a warning either but neither is it warm. A neutral then. Erik flickers a look to T’Challa but the king isn’t looking at him. His face is tilted away a little and Erik follows his gaze. He catches a faint glimpse of silver behind the elders’ chairs. A mirror. Not angled for Erik, no. Its angled so that Shuri can see what T’Challa is saying with his face and relay it to Erik. Well look at that. High tech cousins and they’re back to old tricks where the elders can't catch them using the tech.

His gaze flickers back to the circle quickly just in time to notice everyone is now focused on him.

“We need,” said the same elder as before, “some explanations as to these suggestions that you have made.”

“And which old shit are you?”

Shuri sighs, like she hadn’t expected better but is still disappointed.

“Elder Shakli,” T’Challa says, placing emphasis on the name. “I would ask you to speak to the council of elders with respect cousin.”

Erik sneers a laugh but says, “Sure why not? Lived this long in their cushy digs. Might as well give ‘em some respect for managing to survive the luxury.”

“Erik,” T'Challa’s voice is warning.

Erik opens his mouth but Shuri slaps his chest. He coughs instead of whatever cutting remark he was going to say. “Don’t bother, they’ll just ban you from talking in the meeting unless you get asked a direct question or its about your specialty. I know, that’s what happened to me.”

Erik blinks. So that was why princess was so quiet today.

“What happened to freedom of speech?”.

“It dies when your brother is king and agrees with the elders,” she says dryly. Erik raises his eyebrows because that doesn’t sound a thing like T’Challa.

“If I wanted the meeting to last for five hours then we’ll let her and the elders go at it.” T’Challa says. “She talks when she wants to anyway.”

Someone clears their throat loudly and Ramonda says, “And the meeting will take five times as long if you keeping interrupting like this.” A squeeze on his knee tells him that her ex-highness is on the fence about T’Challa’s decision but not openly.

“What is the purpose the food bloggers?” one of the elders jumps in before anyone can say anything.

“Culture sharing,” Erik says. “People like food; they don’t care from where. You got every sort of racist under the sun and they’ll ‘cus at every race they want to but they’ll still go buy their damn food. It’s about making a connection. Also your bloggers are gonna show your citizens in a good light. They’ll have pictures of their kitchens and whatever and that shit will make people feel connected to them.”

There’s silence as everyone takes that in.

“I like Thai food,” Shuri says. Everyone looks at her. “I’m not saying I’m racist against Thai people!” she backpedals quickly, and T’Challa has to bite back a laugh.

“That’s what they all say 'lil cuz,” Erik drawls. He gets a hard smack on his thigh. He figures that means she hates him. But the air in the chamber has lightened considerable. Erik catches a flash of T’Challa’s eyes to the hidden mirror and realizes that he had signaled Shuri to say something that would lightened the atmosphere. Huh. Cuz might have a brain cell or two in there after all.

“Travel bloggers,” asks another elder. Tap on his thigh. Enemy then. He’ll have to answer carefully.

“Shows you’ve got nothing more to hide,” he says. “Bloggers, especially the kind that fancies that they’re good at what they do, love to poke around and people know that. They’ll think that whatever they give to them is real stuff. Also all those bloggers have a rep for showing a place as it really is you know? So people will trust ‘em. You just gotta figure out what you’re showing ‘em.” He shrugs as much as he can in the chair.

“And what if they do see something they should not?” the elders voice is cold.

Erik laughs in her face. “You really telling me you can’t hide what you want to when you’ve hidden your entire country for years?”

The elder goes silent but she’s still frosty. A gentle squeeze on his knee. Well done this one says. Guess he’s not the only one who took an instant dislike to that particular elder.

Erik continues. “Also blogs are the sort of stuff that gets under people’s skin without them knowing you know? They might hate a place but get a few good pictures, show all the normal people in a place and that’s what will come to people’s minds along with all your fancy ships. It’s a trick. Bombard people with enough images and they’ll eventually believe it, even when they know they shouldn’t.”

“So we should allow them to take pictures of whatever they want?” T’Challa asks.

“Nah,” Erik says, “Looks like you’re trying too hard. Let your people know that they can refuse the bloggers taking pictures of their homes and stuff if they want.”

“That’s good,” Shuri says. “Makes it look more real.”

I understand the point of the celebrities,” Ramonda says after a while, “But we do not need their support.”

“And that’s exactly why you need them here,” Erik says, flatly. “People expect you to attempt to garner support. If you don’t attempt to get support people either will think you don’t want their support, or more importantly, you don’t need it. Since you’re trying not to scare the hell out of the rest of the world you should attempt to show a weakness. This lures ‘em into thinking you’re not as strong as to be able to actually make that much of a dent and so, they’ll relax around you a bit more.”

“Why not bring in actual leaders?” someone asks.

“Because people will think you’re trying to lead their thoughts.”

“But aren’t celebrities leaders?”

“Close enough,” Erik shrugs.

“But just a moment ago you told us not to bring in any leaders because people will think their being led.”

“But celebrities ain’t true leaders,” Erik explains. “People can just say they’re paid off or whatever shit they want to say to believe they’re lying. The celebrities ain’t for the normal population, they’re for the governments.”

“So we look weak!” another elder says. He clearly done not appreciate the idea.

“So we don’t look like a threat,” T’Challa corrects gently before Erik can say anything. “At least, not more than the rest of the world.”

“You don’t want to get people’s back up do you, Elder O’Tanaye?” Shuri says. “People don’t like to listen when you do.” There’s warning in her words and damn Erik almost wants to high-five her. Pity she’s his bitch of a cousin.

The elder looks uncomfortable but he gives a stiff nod. “You are right,” he conceded and Erik is a little impressed. Man’s got the balls to admit he’s wrong. A poke on his leg. Elder O’Tanaye is a friend.

“Is that all?” T’Challa asks. He even manages to say the question like he’s not eager for the answer to be yes. If Erik was king he’d already have thrown ‘em all satisfyingly out.

“Not at all,” says another elder. Tap, goes Shuri’s finger. She taps again a little harder. This elder is real opposition then. Her eyes flicker to the mirror and then she relaxes a little more, looking like she doesn’t care a damn. Erik follows her, T’Challa’s, lead and relaxes in his cage of a chair.  Even his kingly cousin is looking a little smug, leaning back in his throne. It’s a power play of the subtlest level. We rule here, it says. We are royalty. We rule. Not you. It’s a warning.

Erik looks to the ex-queen but she shows nothing on her face.

The elder clearly gets the hidden message as does the rest of the council. The tension ratchets up and the rest of the elders are looking like they’re getting ready to watch a fast paced table tennis match.

“Why is he,” the elder points to Erik and he fully expects that if she was a witch he’d be ash now, “allowed use of some of our operatives?”

“Set a killer to catch a killer,” Shuri answers first even though the question was directed at Tchalla. Princess is still lazily seated on his lap but Erik can feel her muscles coil. Princess is in for one hell of a fight. Erik glances at T’challa and realizes he’s going to let Shuri have this round. They’re gonna tag team her. Erik settles back for real, definitely interested in seeing how this all plays out.

“By giving him the means to kill?” the elder shot back.

“Elder Kintasi,” Shuri says, “You are acting like our operatives are like robots, unable to think for themselves. If he gives a strange order, they will no doubt parse it through and make the best decision that is in line with our principles.”

“Do you really think he is incapable of setting up a plan without our operative knowing that they are being used?” Elder Kintasi strikes back, her eyes hard.

“With his track record?” Shuri says, “No actually. But we have judged the risk worth it. Also we have people who go through his instructions before they are forwarded. Surely you aren’t insulting the intelligence of your own intelligence network?”

“Worth it?!” Kintasi strikes back, choosing to ignore Shuri’s parting shot. Leaves her bleeding though. The other elders are watching her a little askance. “Worth having the world turn against us when he strikes against them? Against innocents?”

When Shuri answers her voice is soft but carries a weight that is warning, deadly. She turns Erik into her throne from which she delivers her irrefutable judgement. “Worth it, to save the life of my brother, your king.”

Kintasi opens her mouth and Shuri locks eyes with her and damn Erik can feel the charisma pour of her and freeze the whole throne room save for her brother.

“If it wasn’t for his intervention, six assassins would now be paid to kill my brother,” Shuri says. “Six. Six assassins to try and toss this country, our nation, back into chaos.”

Well shit. Erik didn’t know that.

There is dead silence and then Kintasi rallies. “Are you saying the Dora Milaje are not capable of handing these threats?”

“Are you saying you would rather have these threats out there, rather than have them taken care of before they can even begin to harm us?” T’Challa’s voice is…not cold or hard but it too is carries a weight that squishes any protest.

Except apparently Kintasi. Seriously. This is the one time Erik wishes his cousin would win. This lady’s voice is annoying.

“I’m saying,” Kintasi says, “That you are taking care of risks by exposing us to more risks.”

“Ain’t you the one just spouting off about innocents?” Erik  breaks in. Everyone’s’ eyes and head turn to him reminding him or meerkats. He continues before Elder Bitch Witch can say something that makes him want to claw her throat out. “How do you think those assassins were getting into Wakanda? They’ll try to bribe wakanadans you got on the outside. They’ll fail and then they’ll kill them and take their credentials. With SHIELD and HYDRA running about, there enough technology to change someone’s face to look like one of your own enough for them to pass through. Or,” he continues, “They’ll show up at your border dressed as refugees, in that case no one might get hurt but the real smart ones will show up with a group of real refuges and once they’re inside they’ll kill everyone who can identify them and come for Cuz here. The third option is that they’ll kill real refuges before they come to the border, steal their clothes and their look and then get inside. So, lotta dead innocents by my count.”

“You don’t care about innocents!” Kintasi snarls.

“But you do,” Erik shoot back.”

“We are not just going to let any refuges come in,” says another elder.

“You aren’t?” Erik says raising an eyebrow.

“We would have to,” says Tchalla, “at least a little bit in or we risk bad publicity. But that opens us up to assassination attacks and spies.”

“So we get rid of them before they come to us,” Shuri finishes the argument neatly.

“This is foolish!” Kintasi says. “You are all disgraces!”

The Dora Milaje instantly stiffen and T’Challa sits up in his throne. “That is not the way to address your king, Elder Kintasi!” Erik’s cousin is gone behind the mantle of king and black panther and Kintasi recognizes it.

“My apologies,” she says even though they all know it’s a lie.

“I think that is enough for today,” T’Challa says after a moment. “Dismissed.”

The elders all nod and then vanish out the door. Ramonda is last. She glances back at her children and Erik can see that even though she may no be on board with their plan, she’s hella proud of them. Then she’s gone and Erik is left alone with his cousins and the Dora Milaje. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the response to this fic!!! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Once the doors are shut Shuri slides off his lap like she’s being burned. She even brushes of the back of her clothes. Erik sneers at her.

“Can’t wipe collusion off princess.”

T’Challa sighs like he dealing with two unruly children. He’s already off his throne and moving towards them.

“Thank you,” he says to Erik first. He rests a hand on Erik’s shoulder and Erik is torn between violently shrugging it off, or trying to, and relaxing into the touch because he’s been denied human contact for too long and he was too distracted in the meeting to take notice of It when Shuri was on his lap. In the end he tenses under T’Challa’s hand but doesn’t actively try to shrug him of. 

T’Challa turns to Shuri, “Yes the bribe of your choice has already been sent to your room.”

“Wait she gets a bribe and I get a thank you?!” Erik demands craning his neck around to see his cousin “Typical.”

Shuri sneers at him. Or at least she tries to. Princess doesn’t actually have an evil bone in her body. It’s a pretty sad state of affairs for someone who’s gonna be a target for people protesting Wakanda’s reveal.

“Did you learn anything?” T’Challa interrupts what might just become a bristling argument. Actually, watching Shuri put her game face back on, it mightn’t have. Just when Erik has all this anger to burn. He puts it away though. If nothing else he can be a professional.

“Plenty,” he says but doesn’t elaborate.

There is a pause and then T’Challa says: “Care to elaborate?”

Erik pretends to think about it. “Nah,”

Shuri rolls her eyes and Erik smirks but settles back down. “Well you’ve got a problem with Elder Bitch Witch there,” he says.

“Oh look,” says Shuri, “it’s the obvious.”

“Oh look,” says T’Challa, “it’s an interruption.”

“Oh look,” says Erik, “I’m still talking.”

T’Challa rubs his forehead like he was fairly certain they were all more mature than this but stays silent and lets Erik talk.

“You should check out if she’s working alone,” Erik says, “and maybe give me a heads up on what’s her motivation.

“Brother died in your uprising,” Shuri answered. “Little brother.”

“Ahh,” says Erik. “Still think there might be something else driving her.”

“Why?” asks T’Challa.

Erik is silent for a moment and then he says. “She's too cold.”

There's another moment of silence where Erik feels like both his cousins process something more than what he told them and then they refocus on him.

“You got too many opposers, too many neutrals and not enough supporters,” he says bluntly. “A couple of your neutrals ain't and your people need a bit more reassurance cause they're all not on board with your move.”

T’Challa and Shuri both glance at each other and Erik realizes that they've know this.

“We’ve suspected, T’Challa replied. “We wanted and outside opinion.”

“So what you gonna do about it cuz?”

“Think,” says T’Challa anticlimactically.

Erik is filled with a sudden desire to punch T’Challa in the face. “You should get rid of them” he says.

“Opposition is healthy,” T’Challa says calmly.

“Opposition is opposition,” Erik says.

“I do not kill my citizens when they’re troublesome,” T’Challa says.

“I didn’t say kill them,” Erik rolls his eyes for effect.

“We don’t get rid of council members when they’re troublesome in a particular subject,” Shuri says. “It’s bad form and it makes you look like a weak ruler.”

Erik shrugs (or tries to) “Your funeral,” he says.

“I do hope not,” T’Challa says gravely then he nods to one of the dora milaje who comes forward with a syringe in her hand. She hands it to T’Challa who asks, “Leg or shoulder?”

Guess the shows over. Back in his cage. “Shoulder.”

T’Challa lifts his sleeve and pushes the needle in. His hand is surprisingly light. Erik barely feels a thing.

The sedative doesn’t hit him right away. It takes about five minutes for his veins to start feeling sluggish and another five before he’s blinking sleepily.  Shuri spends the entirety of that time regarding him intensely and monitoring how his vitals respond to the sedative. Erik spends the time doing the same thing. He needs to know how fast this will knock him out and how deeply. If he’ll have a ghost of a chance he’ll take it. But the sedative does it work well.

In fifteen minutes he’s fighting a heavy sleep. He’s struggling to keep his eyes open, blinking hard but slow. He swallows and the motion feels sluggish. It feels like dying. The moment the thought hits him he remembers it, remembers dying. The panic bits a second later and he spends the next few seconds alternating between shock and fear.

T’Challa returns his hand to Erik’s shoulder and isn’t that the best idea, add in the person who killed him? But strangely enough T’Challa’s hand does help. The last time this happened he was here and he’s here now so Erik’s pretty sure he’ll wake back up. Erik's head clears and he calms in time for him to fall fast asleep.

“Goodnight cousin,” he hears Princess say and then he’s gone.

 

* * *

 

“I do not know why you think this will work,” Shuri says. “He killed his own girlfriend. You couldn’t even hate Nakia when she dumped you.”

T’Challa eyes Erik and says. “Call it intuition.”

“Your intuition, as the americans say, sucks,” says Shuri but he knows she doesn’t really think so. T’Challa signals for the dora milaje to release Erik and carry him back to his cell. They use their kimoyo beads to remove his shackles and then two of them lift his unconscious form between them and begin the journey bac to his cell. Once they’re gone, T’Challa and Shuri both stoop down to the chair. T’Challa runs a hand over the base of the restraints. Shuri pulls up something on her kimoyo beads and stares at the numbers running there for a few seconds.

“Was I right?” T’Challa asks.

Shuri’s eyes flickered to him. “You know you are,” she said, grudgingly, watching at where Tchalla was rubbing his hand over the chair. “Vibranium restraints molded to a steel chair, enhanced with vibranium. He guessed we mightn’t use a full vibranium chair and he was trying to weaken the areas where the restraints joined the chair.”

“Did he get far?” Tchalla asks.

Shuri gives him a look. “No. Vibranium? But I can see where he attempted to stress the metal on the chair.”

“I thought that was why he was being so expressive,” T’Challa mused. “He was trying to cover his attempts to get out.”

“He is dangerous brother,” Shuri says worried.

“I know,” said T’Challa. “But so too am I.”

“Not like this,” Shuri says. “You can’t hate like he can. And he was trained to be a monster. You, you were trained to be a good king.”

T’Challa smiles at her. “Exactly.”

“Why don’t you hate him?” Shuri asked. “He killed Uncle Zuri. We had to fight against our own people.”

“Probably,” T’Challa says, “Because I might have been him, if it were me that was left behind. And because you cannot hate so much without loving hard. There is a heart somewhere in our cousin and it cannot be reached by hate.”

Shuri sighs. “See this is why you are king.”

T’Challa laughs. “And you are my sister. I could not do this without you.”

“Of course!”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The POV in this chapter switches from Erik to T'Challa and back again.
> 
> Music: Break Them by Aerochord ( Words are totally an Erik song) and Burn It All Killmonger Theme.

He wakes up back in his cell with a message on his tablet.

‘Find the panther.’

There's an arrow pointing and Erik looks to the glass wall of his cage only to find it covered in light pictures of a forest that move gently according to whatever program Shuri has set them to. Erik blinks and then notices the eye of a black panther sticking out from behind a leaf. He walks over and feeling rather foolish taps the eye. The panther hops out from behind the plant, gives him a saucy smile and dissolves. His tablet beeps and Erik looks down at it to see he has received information from Shuri. He opens the package and finds a full sleeve of information on elder Kintasi.

“Cute,” Erik says dryly, but settles in to read.

* * *

 

  

“So, what now?” Shuri demands of her brother as he enters the lab for the morning.

“Now we make calls,” T’Challa. “The elders have grudgingly signaled their acceptance of our plans.”

“Yes!” Shuri says.

“So which do you want?” T’Challa asks. “The bloggers or the celebrities?”

There is actual strain in Shuri’s eyes. On one hand she wants to talk to some of her favorite actors, on the other hand she suspects that T’Challa would be the better person to contact them.

She finally heaves a sigh and says, “You take the celebrities. I’ll take the bloggers.”

T’Challa nods and send a schedule to her kimoyo beads. “Book them according to that,” he says. Shuri nods and then the siblings start calling, pitting all their charm and personable skills into play.

* * *

 

 

Shuri gets the easier job. The bloggers are all excited to come. They are practically salivating at the chance to visit Wakanda, all expenses paid by the way, and document it. Shuri assures them that it’s no holds barred, the wankandans will not control what they chose to show the public. Of course, there are some areas that they won’t be allowed to film at but the bloggers accept this.

T’Challa on the other hand has to go through all various communications managers, has to convince them that yes, this is not a prank he is the king of Wakanda, before he gets to talk to the celebrities themselves. And even when he gets through, he has to persuade them that the cause is a noble one and then they have to find out if their schedule even permits them to come to Wakanda.

It’s a long process, and his mouth is dry pretty soon. The Dora Milaje who have accompanied him this morning, hand him bottles of water and remind him when it’s lunch. He catches looks between them that say ‘We are guarding a child.’  But it is all fond so T’Challa doesn’t worry, just thanks them for putting up with him.

He has a virtual lunch date with Nakia. She’s over in Oakland organizing the center there. They chat over lunch through the screens and she spends most of the time babbling about the children there. T’Challa cannot help but smile at her. Nakia is always ready to help people and it is always with the same enthusiasm. It’s why she’s so good at what she does and why he put her in charge of the outreach programs.

“How are things going at home?” she asks him as she finally winds down.

“I think they are about to get very interesting,” T’Challa tells her.

She cocks an eyebrow at him. “They weren’t interesting before?”

“Not like this,” T’Challa smiles back.

“Hmm,” she says. “Remember, don’t overwhelm yourself,” she warns. “It’s easy to do when you want to help people.” Her voice holds tone of experience. T’Challa nods solemnly.

“I will not,” he tells her.

By the end of the day they have three travel bloggers coming in the next week along with two foodie bloggers and T’Challa has secured dates where four major celebrities will vacation in Wakanda. It’s a good start.

 

* * *

 

It’s time for his next meal and Erik is about ready for it. He stretches from where he’s been sitting cross-legged on the floor, working on his web. His operatives had found something hinky with the financials of a certain philanthropist to African countries and he’d spent the last five hours, trying to untwist the weirdness. His operatives too are invested in the question which is good. Erik doesn’t have to worry about them questioning his orders too much. Still he’s hungry. Whatever his cousins had used to put him to sleep had caused him to become ravenously hungry. Well, Erik suspected that it wasn’t the sedative itself but rather his body’s fight to get rid of the sedative quickly. If it had been a smaller dose he’d have been up sometime in the middle of the night but princess had calculated pretty well and had capped him out until morning. Erik sort of regrets not killing her because she looks to be the one who might oppose him the most in getting out of here and putting his own plans in motion. T’Challa, T’Challa is too soft.

He hears the outer doors whish open and then seal shut. It’s the usual routine when his meals come. Footsteps come, winding their way to his cell and then finally someone appears. Erik freezes when he sees who it is.

His cousin stands there with two trays of food. One he sends through the dip, the other he settles onto his own lap when he sits in front of Erik’s cage.

“What the hell?!” Erik demands.

“We had a deal,” T’Challa said, like this was perfectly logical.

“What?!”

“We visit more yes?” T’Challa says, “In exchange for you attending the meeting.”

“I take it back,” Erik snaps. “Awkward dinners was never my thing.”

“Too late,” said T’Challa. He has a smug little smile that he trying to hide. Erik has an overwhelming urge to flip his tray of food at the glass wall but his body needs the fuel.

“Come sit,” says T’Challa, after a moment. “I brought something you might be interested in.”

Erik narrows his eyes. “What? Another deal I don’t want?” he says cocking his eyebrow at T’Challa.

“Evidence of our other deal,” T’Challa says. He taps his kimoyo beads and plans scroll across the screen that appears. The plans Erik had demanded that T’Challa create in case his approach doesn’t work. Erik blinks and then grudging pulls his tray from the dip and sits on the floor facing T’Challa, tray in his lap like his cousin.

“Well I can’t read ‘em form here,” he grouses to T’Challa. T’Challa flicks his fingers and then the plans are on Erik’s glass wall. He reaches out and enlarges them and begins to read.

Dinner is actually quiet. T’Challa eats while Erik reads and analyses the plans. The plans themselves are…well…They’re ruthless. There’s a sort of brutal efficiency to them and for the first time Erik feels like he’s actually seeing the fruits of Wakanda’s warrior culture. If Wakanda truly went for the world, teeth bared, the rest of the world was gonna have one hell of a fight coming to them. Even he hadn’t realized the full extent of the capability of the wakandans. The document he’s given is still carefully worded though. Erik gets the sense that there are things left out, state secrets he’s not supposed to know.

“Didn’t know you could be so heartless cuz,” he says in grudging approval.

“Diplomacy was never my strong suit,” T’Challa says mildly. “And it is far easier to destroy than to build.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that whoever wrote these is one ruthless SOB.”

“My mother will appreciate the compliment,” T’Challa says dryly. “Make no mistake N’Jadaka, I have no desire to use these plans. Just because I am capable of making these plans, it doesn’t mean that I am capable of carrying them out. And there is no force on this earth that will make me do so.”

“But if you fail cuz you will have to,” Erik points out. “Deal right?”

“The deal was to make the plans, not carry them out,” T’Challa rebuffs.

Erik smiles slow and low, the vicious smile before he made a kill. “We’ll see about that Cuz.”

T’Challa matches his smile with one of his own. It’s the battle-hardened smile of a warrior-king, the kind of king that walks into battle and dares someone to try and kill them, the kind that knows no one can.

“I do not intend to fail, N’Jadaka,” he says slowly.

“No one intends to fail, Cuz” Erik replies. “They just do.”

T’Challa is still wearing that smile but it gains a chilling edge. “My will,” says T’Challa, “Is not weak. My strength of will, will back my intent. I will not fail Erik, simply because I will not allow it.”

Erik wants to laugh at the statement but he can’t get the laughter to bubble up his throat. His cousin will die before he fails and Erik know first hand how difficult he is to kill.

Soft. T’Challa is softhearted. But damn it all, he’s got balls of vibranium.

“Alright cuz,” he says leaning back. “Let’s see how far that philosophy gets you.”

Something in T’Challa relaxes. “Does that mean you’re planning on seeing it out then?” He asks.

Erik frowns before he realizes what he said, what he implied: that he wouldn’t be taking that one-way trip out of this caged hell.

“I’ll do whatever the hell I want!” Erik snaps at him.

“Alright,” T’Challa nods. It’s too easy, but Erik isn’t jumping down that rabbit hole today. He’s damn hungry that’s what. And now he’s gonna shut up and enjoy his stupid food. He tries to ignore the fact that T’Challa is eating the same thing he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the first of the awkward dinners.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I know it's been awhile. This chapter was hard to write so I'm sorry if it's a bit weird.

The three travel bloggers arrive in Wakanda and start snapping everything they can. Wakanda has a small international airport of course. It’s where they travel from when the rest of the world is watching and is a good place for any incoming visitors. Of course, since they’re trying to impress them a little, a ship picks up the bloggers from the airport and carries them into the city proper. The bloggers start snapping the instant they’re in the ship. They video as they go and when they enter the shield, the gasps of surprise make the wakandans smile.

The bloggers hardly wait for the ship to land before their boots are on the ground and they scattering, spreading out to gaze at Wakanda’s skylines.

“I see you like it,” Shuri says. She’s waiting just at the courtyard entrance and grins as all three bloggers whirl to face her.

“Hi, I’m Shuri,” she says, smiling at them. “Can I show you to your rooms or would you rather explore first?” To her immense amusement the bloggers all look torn.

 

* * *

 

“They’re crazy,” Shuri tells him. Her mouth is half-full. Erik surprises the urge to tell her to swallow just to see what she would say. It’s three days since the bloggers had landed in Wakanda and Shuri is giving him an update. It’s the first time she’s been to dinner with him, but despite Erik’s expectation that she would be cold, she’s quite sunny.

It’s a mask, clearly, but Erik doesn’t want to go into any deep conversations with his cousins right now. That only makes him want to strangle them more.

“How so lil cuz?” he says instead.

“If Wakanda was an ocean they’d dive right in and swim to the bottom,” she said. “I can’t seem to get them to stop. They delve into everything. They ask so many question my head starts to spin. I had to hand one of them of to an elder to explain the past histories of Wakanda and how it helped to shape our culture.”

“Please tell me it Elder Bitch Witch,” Erik says.

Shuri grins and tries not to. “No,” she says and she can’t keep the regretful tone out of her voice. “One of the neutrals.”

“Well now they’re gonna hate us forever,” Erik says. “You’re supposed to get them on our side princess.”

“I think I did actually,” said Shuri. “That elder likes to talk about history and culture. The fact that the outsiders show so much interest will help them tilt in our favour.”

Erik bares his teeth at her in a grin. “Well look at that. She does have a brain to use.”

Shuri makes a face at him and returns to pointedly eating her meal. She can’t keep quite for long though. After about ten minutes she speaks up again.

“I told you what we’re doing. So, what have you been doing?”

“Sitting in a cell,” he says, “Being incarcerated. Rotting my life away.”

“Yes, yes. Aside from that,” Shuri says.

Erik bares his teeth and thinks he might have liked her in another world.

“Following up something with a philanthropist who donates to African countries,” Erik says. “Also trying to pin down another assassin.”

“Ahh,” says Shuri. “Any luck?”

“T’Challa isn’t dead yet is he?” Erik replies sarcastically and Shuri gives him a look but then she says grudgingly:

“No.”

A beat of silence. “What’s wrong with the philanthropist?”

“Still trying to figure that out cuz,” Erik says, “If I wasn’t, you’d have already known.”

Shuri rolls her eyes. “I can help.”

“Maybe,” Erik concede, “But you’ve got your hands full of them bloggers. Worry ‘bout that. I got this.”

 Shuri rolls her eyes again but lifts her fork and says, “Alright. Fine.”

They have companionable silence for the rest of the meal and then the princess gets up and leaves. Erik sighs. He is so done with this.

 

* * *

 

Find the panther.

“No shit,” Erik says staring at his tablet the next morning. This time the wall is already a forest scene but the panther isn’t in easy sight as it was the last time. It takes him ten minutes of scrutinizing the wall to realize that a dark spot on a tree was actually a tiny curled up panther.

“It’s too early for this shit,” Erik says and hits the cartoon panther with more force than necessary. To his complete lack of surprise, the thing actually frowns at him before hopping away. His tablet chimes and Erik looks down at it. It’s a link and when he taps it, video feds fill up the screen.

It takes him a couple seconds to figure out but soon he realizes that the video feeds are showing him the visitors. Well that didn’t take long, he thinks with satisfaction.

He spends the morning cataloging the areas around the palace and coming up with escape routes out of Wakanda. He checks the placement of the guards and taps the number of spies he sees in the crowd acting like normal wakandan civilians. It’s a good set up though. The guard’s patrols are tight. There are standing guards in the most valuable areas and each blogger is shadowed by three different people. Almost half the crowd at some point int eh local market are spies and Erik grudgingly gives them kudos. They’re good. Only someone who had his background would have noticed them.

In addition to that he actually gets to work noting the responses of the bloggers and coming up with ways to get them to respond even more favorably to Wakanda. The foodie bloggers are going crazy at the local market trying out new things while the travel bloggers are pretty much everywhere. Erik watches them all carefully, trying to see if any of them looks like they’ve been compromised, either bribed or coerced to get something, anything from Wakanda that wasn’t allowed. One of the travel bloggers, Eddy, was it? Looked a little tense but that could just be his reaction to the Dora who were very prominently guarding the bloggers.

Eventually Erik has to split his time between watching the bloggers and hunting down the financials of his troublesome philanthropist. Oh, and catching that pesky, SOB assassin. Seriously, who buys eight false tickets? Bruh, five are enough to lose a trail. Eight is paranoia.

Well…Erik stops to consider. It isn’t paranoia if you really are being hunted. Oh, there’s ticket number nine, on the flight out of London. Erik gets the wakandans to hack the airport security and then grins. There he is. Sorry SOB, you’re gonna be sobbing by the time the CIA get through with you.

Erik turns back to his philanthropist when another alert came from one of his operatives. He eyes the alerts and then curses.

“Seriously Cuz, he says out loud. “I can attest to the fact that you really make people want to kill you but this is getting ridiculous. How many people can you piss of badly enough that they hire assassins for you?”

 

* * *

 

“There are three more assassin after you,” Erik informs T’Challa when he walks in that evening. T’Challa stops and blinks.

“I thought I was a nice person,” he said.

“Where have been living? Under a rock? Nobody likes the goody-good kid in class. That’s the kid we shove down the toilet because they did the homework that no one else did and then had the audacity to tell the teacher that yes, we did have homework, when everybody else is saying no.”

T’Challa throws back his head and laughs. In fact, it takes him the next five minutes to actively stop laughing.

“It wasn’t really that funny,” Erik says flatly. For some reason that sends T’Challa of again.

Erik endures it for a minute and then says. “Man shut up.”

T’Challa burst into new laughter and Erik has the urge to throw his tablet at him but refrains because he’s a grown adult and don’t need to be throwing his stuff like a kid.

T’Challa makes a strong attempt to stop laughing though and finally manages to get out: “Shuri says she gave you some of the camera feeds.”

“Yeah so?” Erik says.

“What did you think?” T’Challa said.

“Not bad but you’re not as good as you can be either.”

“Well,” T’Challa sits cross-legged in front of Erik’s cell, “Have fun telling me what I’m doing wrong.”

Well shit. Erik might decide to give him a quick death instead of a slow torture after all.

“With pleasure Cuz,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I saw Infinity War. O_O


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter include nightmares, organ trafficking, gore and thoughts on racism. That being said, I hope you enjoy.

Nightmares send him out of sleep though Erik cannot for the life of him remember what they were. It’s been a long time since he’s ever had nightmares. He rubs his face and grimaces at the shred of his clothing. He beeps for clothes and dumps the shreds into the dip when his guard opens it for him. He snatches the new clothes and then turns on the shower letting the water rain down on him.

He clenches his fist and slams it into the wall.

This damn cage was killing him.

He needed to move, to breathe, to go where he wanted, when he wanted. He needed to feel his muscles strain, to smell gunpowder and the sharp, grounding scent of the oil used to keep his blades in good order. He feels flayed without his body armor sometimes, without his weapons. His cousin has actual teeth and claws, but Erik had to make do with what the rest of the world could give him. He’s not pleased with being separated from them.

True, he knows hand to hand, knows it damn well, has to have, to be able to adjust to the speed and strength of the heart-shaped herb so fast and so accurately. But Erik has always liked the feel of a weapon in his hands ever since that night when he came home to an apartment that only held the dead. The world was no place for little boys without teeth.

Erik switches of the shower and stands still while warm air blows in and dries him. The air makes the room muggy, like the summer days in Oakland, where everybody wore too little and kids traded marbles and slingshots for money to buy ice-cream or snowcones. Then the little fan switches direction and all the heat is whirled away to be replaced by cool air.

Erik redresses, his movement stiff with tense muscles. He stands still for a moment after he’s dressed wanting nothing more than to be able to go through the glass, kill the guards, ghost his way through the palace, put a bullet in his cousin’ s head, both of them, for caging him like this and then burn down the world, burn down anyone who’d ever though of cages and cells and silver dungeons.

But he can’t. Not yet. His escape is a long game and his plans longer still. He’s waited years for his plans to come to fruition., he can wait a couple more. It’d be all the sweeter when he finally rips it all down, shows the rest of the world that slavery wasn’t something to be forgotten, that it still existed in their sneers, and their condescending smiles, and their appropriation of a culture while viciously excluding the very people who’d made it.

He takes a deep breath. Everybody dies. But only some people have the privilege of helping other people along to their fate.

 

Since he can’t move the way he wants too and trying right now would only make him more frustrated, Erik sits back down to contemplate the problem of his squirrely philanthropist.

 

* * *

 

Some ten hours later, he finally cracks the mystery.

 

Oh, Philanthropist you piece of shit. At least when Erik kills somebody he has the decency to leave their body alone.

Hmm a kidney goes for that much now? Damn he’s been out of the loop too long. Funny how no one seems to have any prejudice against the organs which came from black people. Piece of shit is still selling Erik’s people but in smaller pieces now.  All those people the philanthropist had taken into his shelters, his revolutionary school rooms, how many of them he’d taken and never put on the registers? How many had tiny accidents when a special order came in for an organ of a specific blood type?

Erik sends instructions for his operatives to get him physical evidence to match the electronic trail and then sits and waits, seething with rage.

The confirmation comes five hours later. Erik sits and watches the body of a young girl, not much older than the princess herself, lying cut open on a table. The doctors have her under anesthesia, wanting the organs viable and fresh. Her head lolls to the side, the straps of the oxygen mask squishing down some part of her afro. She’s already had several of her major organs out and packed away for transport by the doctors. Cleary the operative had come into the procedure halfway through and Erik knows that there isn’t much anyone can do to save her, not now. She would die by the time anyone got her back to Wakanda. Hell, she’d die by the time they got her to the closest hospital.

The recording is shaking slightly like the operative is vibrating with rage but unable to do anything. I feel ya bruh, Erik thinks. He clenches his jaw and sends all the evidence to his cousin.

 

* * *

 

“What now?” Shuri asks. She is in the middle of doing some delicate work but at T’Challa’s grim look she saves all her progress and comes over to him. He shows her and watches her face pale.

“How…! How could such people even exist brother?!” she says angrily. “I don’t even understand that! How could anyone do that to another person?!”

“I don’t know,” T’Challa says gravely. “But it must be stopped.”

“Are we going to carry it to the authorities?” Shuri asks. “A gesture of good ill. I know the Sokovia accords still stand.”

“They do,” said T’Challa, “But Erik was following this lead because the man involved is very influencial and has been making very convincing speeches that the entrance of Wakanda into the African world with all our infrastructure and our outreach centers may actually tip the African economy into a downward spiral instead of helping to uplift our brethren. He argues that our appearance as a place that is valuable to connect trade route to, will cause the other countries to suffer for lack of ‘patronage’, so to speak, holding back their chances of economic growth.

Shuri rolled her eyes. “Wakanda has been self-sustaining for years. Anything we make trade deals for is practically a matter of whim. Besides a lot of what we earn, will be spent back into our sister nations.”

“We know that,” said T’Challa, “But the rest pf the world has been entwined together for a long time. They cannot quite imagine living in a place that doesn’t need the rest of the world. But going back to the Philanthropist, I suspect he was only making such arguments so that people would fail to countenance Wakandan outreach centers in the their countries or neighborhoods.”

“And so doing, keep his organ business in place because everyone will go to him for shelter,” said Shuri, her eyes hard. “Especially if he has a good reputation that is years in the making.”

“And,” said T’Challa, “He has several key connections to business men and senators in the US, the UK, Japan, China, Korea, Russia, India, Australia and the Caribbean. I suspect any evidence we give will somehow disappear.

“No, it can’t!” Shuri said.

“Yes it can,” said T’Challa. “Here our technology would work against us. Don’t you think they will believe we have some way of altering images and video so that they cannot detect it? Any evidence we provide will be suspect.”

Shuri froze. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” T’Challa said gravely. “This man has too many ties with important people. Going through the normal channels for this….”

“It won’t work. But brother, if the Black Panther shows up anywhere then they will know we’ve broken the accords. Ross managed to smooth over the incident in Korea but anymore slip ups? With the eyes of the world on us? People are already afraid of us.”

T’Challa gave her a sharp smile. “Then I won’t get caught.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all you lovely people who comment and give kudos. You all make my day!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go after the philanthropist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy! It wasn't as epic as I'd meant it to come out.

“He’s going to be at his major warehouse in two days,” Shuri said. “We were lucky. He’s there for a routine inspection, apparently.” She wrinkles her nose at the thought that evil organizations could have things like routine inspections to keep quality.

“So, we hit him then,” says T’Challa.

“I’ll tell the Dora to dress incognito,” Okoye says.

“Yes,” says T’Challa, “But you’re not going in with me.”

Okoye gives him a sharp look.

“None of you wear bullet proof helmets,” T’Challa pointed out. “Besides,” he continues even as she opens her mouth. “I want this to have as little visibility as possible. I’m going in and I’ll take out the lights. I’m doing this simple. No claws, no kinetic energy, no spears. I want the dora milaje to get the victims out of the warehouse and prevent any criminals from escaping.”

“I don’t like it,” said Okoye. “It’s too risky.”

“I want this to be very quiet,” T’Challa said. “An army of warrior women, no matter how they’re dressed will come back to Wakanda. I don’t know another nation who has a phalanx of women of your caliber.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Okoye says.

“It is the truth,” T’Challa says but he is smiling. “No general. We need him gone and for that we need to have no one suspect that the evidence has been tampered with.”

Okoye huffed but said, “If we suspect for one moment that you need backup, we’re coming in.”

T’Challa gave her an affronted look. “You really had better.”

Okoye snorted but he could tell she was trying to hide a smile.

 

* * *

 

“Ready?” T’Challa asked.

“We are in position,” Okoye replied.

“I have eyes on out philanthropist,” T’Challa announced over the comm. “Going in…now.”

“Good luck,” Shuri hissed from back in Wakanda.

T’Challa skipped through the fence, neatly evading three guards and then parkoured up the side of the warehouse, his enhanced abilities allowing him to make the distance. He settled on the roof and went in through a skylight and dropped silently onto the rafters ahead.

He crept slowly along them until he was in the best position and carefully took out the rubber handled knife he’d brought with him and sliced through the electric cord tying the lights of the warehouse together.

The whole warehouse plunged into darkness and the men guarding the philanthropist instantly let out startled cries. T’Challa gave a savage grin and jumped.

* * *

 

 

The men were spinning wildly, trying to figure out where, if any, the threat was. They were easy to dispatch. T’Challa grabbed the gun of one, ripped it from his hands, ducked a punch, kicked the man, swung the gun he’d liberated and smacked it straight into eh temple of another. Bullets pinged of his suit but the telltale purple glow of the nanites didn’t rise, Shuri having kept them dormant for this run.

T’Challa blocked blows from two of he men, while a third kept trying to shot him from different angles. T’Challa had to take care to ensure that none of the bullets he was dodging would fly and hit the poor unconscious persons who were being prepped for organ extraction. He’d done his best to attack the men in the place that was furthest from the beds but it would never have been perfect no matter what he’d done.

Still, in a matter of moments he’d brought down the eight guards surrounding the philanthropist and stalked over to the man himself. The philanthropist, drew his own gun and shot as best he could at the shadowy figure approaching him but as before, the bullets did nothing. He turned to run but T’Challa lunged forward and punched him. The philanthropist’s head snapped back and he fell unconscious.

“More men are incoming!” said Okoye. He could hear the sounds of fighting through her comm. The Dora milaje were evidently keeping the outer guards from coming in but there was a second squad in the building that he would have to deal with.

“I hear them,” T’Challa said. He dragged the philanthropist to where he wouldn’t be shot accidentally and then dived through the ware house to the containers at the back. He ripped open the locks of doors of the large containers and people inside cried out and scrambled away from him. T’Challa knew he looked like little more than a monster to these people, a dark wraith that had suddenly appeared after the sounds of a firefight.

“Get out!” he said succinctly. “I am here to help. Come. Now!” At the last word the people inside fled past him and towards the door he shoved them to.

“Incoming,” he said into his comm. “Prisoners. At the north exit.”

“Copy,” said another one of his dora. “The north exit is secure.”

T’Challa managed to get the other container of people heading in the right direction before the squad of men made their way over to him.

These men were a little more heavily armed and T’Challa took a couple of hits that he’d rather have not but eventually he made his way through them and then stood breathing heavily inside the warehouse.

“Warehouse secure,” he said. He made his way back to the philanthropist and zip tied him to a post and stuck a disk of evidence in his pocket and then made his way over to the victims still tied down the beds and drugged out of their minds.

“The prisoners from the containers are also secure,” one of the Dora reported.

He hurriedly unstrapped the first one and then moved to the other intent of realizing them so that the dora would just have to drag them out quickly when something struck him in the back. Bolts of electricity sparked over his suit and T’Challa dropped hard to one knee.

“Brother!” Shuri’s voice sounded in his ear. “Are you okay? What was that? Your suit is freezing!”

Unable to answer T’Challa managed to twist his head a little to see that the man he’d just unstrapped was sitting up and pointing a gun of some sort at him. Then the patient in the bed he’d been going to also sat up and shot him again. More electricity sparked over his suit, keeping it locked down as he groaned.

“T’Challa!” Okoye called. “We are coming!”

“Keep your bodyguards out of this king,” said on of the men casually. “There are bombs planted under the beds of the donors. Your people come it, we’ll blow them all. Once we get you out, your women will have less than thirty seconds to disarm them all. And we assure you, you’ll need all of your bitches to get all of the bombs.”

“General!” he groaned.

“I heard!” Okoye said tightly. “We are coming in!”

“No, you won’t!” T’Challa said. “Stay out! You can’t get them all out before the bombs go off so save them and then come for me!”

“T’Challa!”

“That is an order!” he gritted out.

There was a strained silence and then Okoye bit out. “You better live until then!”

A third shot came, this one far more potent than the last two and while he fell onto the ground writhing. The second man hopped out the bed and set several devices around him ad then activated them. Threads wrapped around him and then stiffened until they felt like steel bars caging him in. Electricity ran through them and T’Challa had to bite his lip from groaning again.

The men, wearing gloves of some sort that protected them from the device, efficiently loaded him onto a stretcher and cheerfully trundled him across the warehouse and into an armored van that was parked inside. The van simply went through the side of the warehouse and then down the road. One of the men hit a button on an arming device and T’Challa knew that inside the warehouse, many, many bombs had just begun to count down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me. *Puppy eyes*


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter you didn't know you were waiting for. I hope you enjoy!

Since he’s not patched into the operation going down Erik satisfies himself with going over the information on the philanthropist, trying to get every shred of information he can to pin all the man’s crimes against him. It’s while he’s doing this that he comes across an oddity.

It’s a subroutine, buried among the man’s banking information. Erik follows it across and finds out that the purpose of the sub routine is to ensure that certain transactions can’t be hidden. If they could have been, then Erik wouldn’t have found the weird money trail, wouldn’t have pinned down the philanthropist to the organ business in the first place.

What the hell?

It comes to him a second later. Set-up. It’s a set-up. Either the philanthropist himself did it or someone bigger just sacrificed the philanthropist to get to T’Challa.

Well shit. He didn’t stop all those assassins for his cousin to just up and die, especially when he’s taking out that SOB philanthropist. He calls to his guards and sends out the warning.

It turns out though, that he’s too late. But the time they get the warning, T’Challa is already in their grasps, unable to do anything or the people will blow the warehouse to bits with innocents still inside.  And of course, his overly good cousin would never do that so T’Challa’s gone, most likely to be interrogated and then killed.

Shit. 

 

* * *

 

“Okoye!” says Shuri, “what now?!”

“We are already going after him,” the general assured her. She sounds tired. Through her comms Shuri can hear frightened people chattering. The dora milaje managed to disarm all the bombs in time but it had been a close thing. They were now trying to calm the victims while some of them had bolted staring after T’Challa.

They would reach him. Shuri was sure. Twenty seconds head start wasn’t too bad. The dora had taken their cars. They would catch up to them.

“General!” a call echoed through the comms.

“What is it?!” snapped Okoye.

“They didn’t go far,” the dora admitted. “They ran straight to a chopper they had hidden. They’re already in the air and going fast.”

Okoye let out a word that Shuri was not supposed to ever hear and then said, “Shuri can you track him?”

“Yes, I can track his suit,” she replied. She entered commands on her san table and instantly a little dot came up, showing her brother’s position. “He’s heading east,” she said. She rattled off more directions and then the dora who’d been trailing him, put their car in gear and went after their king.

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later though they had to admit defeat of a sort when the dora pulled up at a compound. It was far away enough from the city, heavily fenced, with guns strong enough to flip their vibranium cars if not to destroy them. There were quite frankly a ridiculous number of guards, a couple tanks and to top it all off, a string of teenage hostages.

“Keep watch then,” Okoye commanded when the news was relayed to her. “The rest of us will get a plan to get him out of there.”

In a few minutes Shuri and the dora milaje have set up communications.

“Do you have the schematics for the building?” Okoye asked her.

“Yes,” said Shuri. She sent the schematics over to them. “My brother is mostly likely being held here. It’s a fortified room in the middle of the building.”

“The entire building is fortified,” Okoye said.

“That room is more fortified,” Shuri replied. “So even if we tried an all out assault, he’d probably be dead before we reached him, provided they get through the suit somehow.”

“But the hostages will definitely be dead,” Okoye said grimly.

“And everyone will know we’ve broken the accords and probably were the ones who took down the philanthropist and we’d lose him too.”

“At the moment, I don’t care about him,” Okoye said.

“But T’Challa does,” Shuri said. “I don’t care about him either. But my brother would not buy his life with the lives of others that the philanthropist will take if he goes free.”

There is a general round of sighs that said they all are proud that their king is so noble but it does cause problems as well.

“So we sneak in,” said Okoye.

“Correct,” said Shuri, “Only it’s not that easy. I can get you retroreflectors to get past the guards at the fence but getting inside the building is going to be hell. Front door is locked biometrically by the guards and with a code. Walk in with a guard and you have to undergo a full body laser scan which will pick you up even with the invisibility tech. Once that happens everything goes into lock down. All the entrances into the building are like this.”

“Once lock down occurs, then they’ll shoot all the hostages,” one of the other dora says.

“I assume so yes,” Shuri replied.

“And even if we save the hostages first, they’ll still go into lockdown and kill T’Challa if they manage to get him out of the suit.”

“There must be another entrance,” Okoye says.

“The vents,” Shuri said. “When everything goes into lockdown, everything is sealed down, from doors to vents to the electric sockets that are outside the building. But they still need to breath in there. From what I can tell, the vents are (a) a tight fit, (b) have laser trip wires just inside which will sound of an additional alarm to tell them someone’s coming in and (c) open for ten seconds every fifteen minutes to let air in.”

“So only one person will get the chance to go in,” said Okoye. “If we wait for a second opening to let another person in they might have killed him already.”

“Yes,” said Shuri. “That’s what I figured too.”

“But they’ll have guards in the building,” another dora pointed out. “And we don’t know what shape the king will be in. This is not a one-person job.”

“No,” agreed Shuri. She took a deep breath and added. “Unless the person going in has the power of the black panther.”

There is a sudden foreboding silence.

Okoye breaks it. “You have got to be kidding me.”

 

* * *

 

Erik is pacing in his cell, feeling like he’s slowly going mad with the lack of information, when the princess marches up to his cell.

“Hey princess,” he greets. “You got yo stupid brother out yet?”

“No,” she says and Erik snaps to attention because there’s a dangerous light in her eyes and set to her jaw that makes him think that something is going down. She stiffens her spine even more and said, “We need your help.”

Erik scoffs. “All your fancy tech, all your wardogs and your dora milaje and you need my help?”

“There are conditions,” she continues as if he hadn’t spoken at all. “You are going out there to save my brother only. You will be tracked and you will be injected with this.” She says holding up a syringe. “It’s a poison, synthesized by myself. There is no cure for it but the one I will make. It will not harm you until the time period is up and then it will kill you. So if you don’t come back, you will be dead. The antidote is not currently synthesized so do not try to find it, it doesn’t exist right now. When you come back you will ask me politely for it and then return to you cell. I’ll bring it to you then. My brother is being held hostage in a building and we can only get one person in. It would be better if that person is you.”

“Because I’m expendable,” Erik sneers even as his mind whirls through her conditions. Princess aint pulling any punches.

“Because you still have the power of the heart-shaped herb,” Shuri says flatly. “We’ll do it without you, but you do know that my brother’s protection is the only thing keeping you alive Erik Stevenson.”

Erik almost flinches from the way she says his name. It’s like a knife she digs into him, almost determined to dig anything Wakanda from him. It’s a dare. A dangerous one to give to someone like him but princess is desperate and desperation makes people do stupid things.

Erik blinks and takes a few moments to think. It could be a chance to get out but no douct princess’s poison will do what she said it would. He also doubts anyone he knows will be able to engineer an antidote for it in time anyway if he descried stop bounce. But it’s an opportunity. If he can get them to make this a habit, he can speed up his escape process quite considerably. Better yet, maybe he can even get them to trust him a little.

So he shrugs and says, “Why the hell not? Not like I like this cage anyway.”

Shuri almost slumps in relief and places a device on the glass. A hole in the glass wall suddenly appears, just big enough to fit his hand through. Shuri gestures for him to do just that and when he does, the guards on either side grip his hands tightly to ensure he doesn’t try to grab the syringe. Shuri too does something with her kimoyo beads and the hole suddenly shrinks down pressing painful against the edges of his skin and preventing him from pulling back his hand into the cage.

Damn but Erik hates these people.

Shuri uncaps the needle and with smooth efficiency pushed it into his veins and then deposits the contents into him. She recaps the needle and lets the glass release him. He pulls back his hand and says with a smirk:

“Well what are you waiting for princess?”

* * *

 

 

First princess leaves. Then the guards open his cell and put him in vibranuim restraints. Finally, they lead him to his cousin’s lab.

It’s only the second time he’s seen it and it’s much busier than before. People are bustling around, doing incomprehensible things and speaking Xhosa so fast Erik can barely catch the words. More interestingly no one seems to pay him any mind.

“Hey cuz,” he says.

Shuri looks up form where she’d been doing something at her san table and nods. “Good.” She taps something into place behind his ear and uses her kimoyo beads to activate it.

“Tracking device,” she explains. Then she pushes clothes at him. “I made it similar to your old outfit,” she said. “Put it on.” Erik blinks down at the clothes in his arms and realizes that’s she made him tac gear. And she’s right. It’s similar to the gear he’d worn when he had come to Wakanda but it feels lighter somehow, and tougher.

“Can’t put these on in chains,” he drawls. The guards flash each other looks but they remove his chains. Erik has to take a moment to stifle the urge to kill all of them but living, living is in his blood now. This feeling of freedom, the feeling of actually being free flows through him and he can’t do it. He doesn’t want to die yet. Not while there’s still a chance he can’t get out of this shit alive. So he stifles the impulse, buries it where it’ll fester until it rich and well honed and starts stripping.

“A little privacy?” he asks his guards just to see what will happen but they both stare at him with unmoving faces. Princess however has her back firmly turned and her eyes fixed on the screen in front of her.

Erik pulls on the clothes, stomps into the boots he’s given and then says, “Knock, knock,” to Shuri to catch her attention.

“Stranger danger,” Shuri says almost absentmindedly before closing off whatever she has running and turning to look at him. She gives a nod of satisfaction and then goes over to the mannequin holding the suit of the golden jaguar. She removes the necklace from the suit and then drapes it almost ceremoniously around his neck.

“Do not disgrace the black panther linage, Wakanda’s history, again while you wear this suit,” she tells him, eyes locked onto his fearlessly.

“Oh, like it’s so spotless,” he snarls back to her.

“And you’re so ready to add to the stain, right?” she snaps back. “Maybe leave another child fatherless, alone and scared, just like everyone you hate.”

Erik had a hand around her throat before he can stop himself and his guards’ spears are jabbing into his ribs.

“Shut up!” he snarls. “You don’t know a damn thing.”

She has a hand on his wrist but she doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything and after a moment he forces his fingers open and pulls his hand from her throat. He hadn’t gripped her hard, just enough to scare but oh he’d wanted to crush her throat then.

He takes a deep breath and says. “Why don’t you brief me?”

“You’ll be briefed on the plane,” she says and Erik gives her points for managing to keep her voice steady. “I just have one more thing for you.”

“And it’s not even my birthday,” Erik says sarcastically.

Shuri snorts but says. “Turn around.”

“What?” Erik narrows his eyes.

“Just do it,” she said waving her hand at him.

He does so and then stiffens as he feels her come up behind him. Her hands come around his neck and for a moment he wonders if she’s about to take her revenge and just choke him back for a minute when a familiar weight thuds onto his chest and the cool links of his chain slid around his neck where she clasps it.

Erik freezes staring at the chain with his father’s ring on it. He opens his mouth once, twice, but no sound comes out.

“What the hell?” he croaks and is almost embarrassed at how hoarse he sounds.

“We can’t let you have it in the cell,” Shuri said shrugging. “But I thought you might like it when you were going out.”

Erik feels…he doesn’t know how to feel. His cousins are going to give him whiplash one day. What ever happened to them being predictable? He wants to hate her for comparing him to his own father’s killer. He doesn’t want to kill her because somehow, she knew how important the ring was to him, know he’d want to have it with him.

He grips the ring almost unconsciously, feeling like a part of him had been returned. It’s warm, warmer that it should be if it was in storage.

“Were you wearing it?” he asks sharply.

“No,” Shuri shakes her head. “I keep it in a pouch.” She hesitates and then says. “My brother and I didn’t want to lock it away somewhere.”

There’s a moment when the world sort of screams around Erik, when it all twists and swirls and he feels like throwing up, like screamingly, like crying and breaking all his bones and then it’s over and reality has reasserted himself.

“Where’s the plane?” he growls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So some action next!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry all my action chapters don't seem to be coming out as epic as I want them too these days. Still I hope you like. Thank you all for all the support you've given this fic! It means so much to me.

The Dora milaje radiate cold like they’re Siberia embodied. Erik doesn’t care. He has a hand on his ring and he’s bent over the san table in the ship studying the layout of the building T’Challa is being held.

“The vent is here,” Okoye tells him. “Once we start to rescue the prisoners, you get a few seconds to get into the vent before it shuts.”

She hands him a handful of tiny kimoyo beads. “These will reflect the laser beams so they won’t know they’re being broken.”

“Like foil,” he says and she nods.

“Once you’re in, you have to follow this path to get to him.” She traces out a path in the schematics and Erik memorizes it, along with the rest of the schematics incase things go wrong. He takes note of the guards that they know about and mentally multiplies the number by five. This is going to be messy. Whoever they were, they knew who they had to hold and who would come for him and prepared accordingly.

“I didn’t hear an exit plan,” he said still studying the schematics. “I assume that means we’re improvising?”

“Head for the nearest exit and get him out no matter what,” Okoye says tightly.

“Improvising it is,” he said looking up and grinning at her.

She looks like she wants to drive her spear straight through his heart. He knows she hasn’t forgiven him for killing one of her soldiers. Erik smiles, letting the memory of that death fill his eyes and knows that she sees it.

“Sure,” he says when her hands tighten on her spear, “I’ll get him out.”

She eyes him and then turns and goes to confer with another of the dora. Erik smirks and returns back to the schematics.

 

* * *

 

They land not too far from the compound and meet up with the dora who are waiting there keeping watch. They stay out of sight of the guards and confer silently. The dora at the compound give their update but it’s basically to say that nothing has changed. A shift in guards had happened but it had been careful, switching out each team every twenty minutes. The guards were alert and they had infrared visors.

“How are we doing this?” asked the second of the dora who’d been keeping watch.

“As quick and as silent as we can,” Okoye says. “We don’t have time to be fancy. Get to the hostages and get them behind you quickly.” She continues to give orders and then finally turns to Erik.

“When I give the signal to attack, you must be by the vent. Can you get there without being seen?”

Erik smirks at her. “No one sees me until I want them to.”

“That had better be true,” she said. “Now go.” She grabs his arm before he leaves though. He pushes it off but she glares at him hard. “You will rescue him,” she hisses, “Or I will flay you over an open flame and bury your ashes in white man’s land.”

Erik snarls at her. “I’ll get your little king back safe and sound and if you ever touch me again general, you’re losing the hand.”

Then he triggers the suit and slinks off into the shadows.

 

* * *

 

Kidnapping, T’Challa decides is a particularly painful process. Well, not the kidnapping itself but the interrogation. They’re using electricity, high voltages of it, as that’s the only thing that can freeze the suit and hit him with a dose of pain at the same time.

His kidnappers are smart though. They are not in the same room as he is. They ask questions through an intercom and then shock him from nodes set up in the room. He is also currently suspended horizontally in the room, wrapped up like a burrito in chains, arms behind his back. A set of chains also anchor him to the floor and all the chains are always electrified enough to freeze the suit. When they want to really shock him the entire room comes alive with bolts of electricity.

It is, needless to say, very annoying.

They haven’t managed to get the suit of him of course, which annoyed them very much but neither have they been able to get any information about the shields surrounding Wakanda, the properties of vibranium, any secret entrances to Wakanda, the true extent of their technology, the identities of their wardogs, how much wealth they actually have, the names of the shell companies that Wakanda has and operate in the outside world. They want passcodes and safe words, the secret to mining vibranium, Wakanda’s plans to help the world, primarily, he guesses to be able to disrupt them.

They also know he’s the king of Wakanda. Not that T’Challa’s been hiding it, but it isn’t actually well known to the rest of the world, so these guys have contacts. He uses the break times between questions to try and get some wriggle room in his chains. The suit freezes with enough electricity but not too badly and T’Challa’s been putting his heart-shaped herb infused strength to work, by pushing out against his chains, trying to stretch the connections between the links and get them slack. It’s working but slowly. They wrapped him as tightly as they possibly can and trapped his limbs so that it’s difficult for him to get any leverage to work with. Luckily, they didn’t seem to know about the herb which is why he making his way through the chains slowly.

Still he has no doubt the dora milaje would be here soon. He almost feels a pang of sympathy for his kidnappers.

 

* * *

 

There are floodlights surrounding the fence and faced outwards. They’re meant to make it impossible to sneak in and usually they’ll be correct. But Erik’s done jobs like these a thousand times. Floodlights don’t mean shit unless the guards are always alert.

The thing is though that these guards have been alert for ages, even with the shift change. They’re highly strung and nervous. They know that they’re up against Wakanda which means even they’re not sure exactly what it is they’re up against.

They’re twitchy as hell and hyper-focused and that’s really all Erik needs. Hyper-focused guards tend to focus on the place that they’re sweeping so much that they ignore the things just outside of their field of vision.

It’s takes some dancing around, some near misses but Erik reaches the fence and once at the wire he’s under the spotlights and no one is ever going to see him coming. He’s over the fence in seconds and slipping into the shadows on the building in the next moment. Easy peasy.

He accesses the map he memorized and makes his way cautiously over to the vent. He eases the cover open and rests the tiny kimoyo beads on the inside. The little things quickly roll over to where the laser trip wires are, shift to show flat reflective sides and then insert themselves right in the trip wires. The lasers hit the reflective sides and bounce back unaware that they’ve been interrupted. The beads roll towards the edges of the vent keeping the lasers contained and opening a clear path for Erik to wiggle through.

Erik starts the climb in, twisting painfully and really wishing for the first time in his life, that his shoulders weren’t as broad as they are. He also has to be careful that he doesn’t knock away any of the tiny beads that that keeping the lasers of off him. The whole thing makes him feel likes he’s a contortionist mixed with a tightrope walker. He gains a sudden and new appreciation for the circus.  

He’s halfway into the vent when he hears Okoye give the order to go. It’s good timing, he needs to get inside before the doors shut and the Dora needs to get to the prisoners before the kidnappers realize that they’re under attack from the inside.

The dora milaje don’t have his skills and at any rate there’s too many of them to sneak up through the floodlights. But flicking Wakanda is Wakanda which means that Shuri devised a smaller version of the shield that hides their city. The tiny beads project a field around a person and then makes them disappear. It’s less than half a minute before the dora are over the fence and then they’re spreading out, situation themselves around the prisoners to best protect them before they shot once the dora start attacking.

When Okoye hisses for the dora to start the attack, Erik’s almost completely in. There is the sudden sound of alarm, people crying out, guns shooting and general chaos ensuing. Erik gets his feet into the vent just in time before it snaps shut.

He wriggles painfully through the vents and by the time he knocks out the grate cover on the other side he’s in a foul mood. He knocks out the three men who are in the room with vicious precision and then sets off for the room holding his cuz as fast as he can go. He isn’t subtle, doesn’t try to be because he knows the cameras will have already caught him anyway but he does his best to avoid unnecessary fights. No need to waste energy when you don’t have a red bull handy.

He goes through two guards he remembers seeing on the map, crushing their guns with his hands and eviscerating one with a knife stolen from his partner. He slams the head of the other into the wall. The man drops unconscious but Erik’s already halfway down the hall.

He hits a whole squad of guards next and it’s child’s play when you’re in a bullet proof suit, with enhanced strength and speed. The next set of guards that come after him though, they are equipped with the same kind of guns that probably took down T’Challa.

He evades one shot and then another. But there’s four guys and it’s a narrow corridor. He knows he’s gonna get hit soon. He would use the kinetic energy to get past them but they’re trying to leave as little trace as possible which can go lead to Wakanda and that included tiny, contained explosions. He’d asked about the costume but apparently since they’re so many people randomly showing up in weird suits, it doesn’t matter unless they have a very specific skill, such as the kinetic energy, to link him back to Wakanda.

He calculates and then asks,

“Hey princess?”

“Yeah?” Shuri asks. She’s been monitoring them but not cluttering up the comms.

“Did you get a read on how much those bolts of electricity are?”

“No but I can guess,” she says. “Why?”

“Can I take them outside of the suit?”

“What?!” she asks.

“That shit freezes the suit, right? Can I handle them outside of the suit?”

“Are you crazy?” she asks. “It’ll be like being tased. It would kill an ordinary person.”

Erik considers, dodges another shot and then takes off the suit.

“You’re crazy!” he hears Shuri shriek.

He makes it to the first two men and caps them out but the second and third men fire. He dodges one shot but gets hit with the other. It smacks into his tac vest and whatever Shuri made it out of, it kept the shock from spreading too far. It also didn’t freeze him. Sure, his lungs froze a little bit and he sort of regretted wearing the chain with his father’s ring, but breathing is for the weak and not moving is for the dead. He pulls a knife from one of the two men he just took down and threw it.

It hits his shooter in the throat and then he spins out of the way of another shot, grabs another guy’s gun and shots the last man. He retriggers the suit and Shuri’s voice comes in clearer. She’s still shrieking at him.

“What are you doing?! Are you trying to die?! No dying before you save my brother!”

“Easy princess,” he snarls. He takes the guns with him and the next squad he encounters before he reaches where they’ve held T’Challa goes down much easier. Then he’s at the door and flicking out his claws.

It takes too damn long for him to literally claw his through but he gets through enough, using his augmented strength to push the doors apart.

“Get back!” T’Challa shouts and Erik leaps back as the room fills with actual lines of electricity flickering over everything. T’Challa shouts in pain and Erik takes a moment to savor the sound and then aims and shoots out the nodes which are realizing the electricity into he room. He gets which ones he can in this angel and then he’s diving inside, twisting to avoid the bolts of lightening while shooting furiously at the nodes. Some of the electricity hits him and he wants to curse except his tongue feels numb but he manages to reel out of its influence and shoot out the node.

Finally, though the room is clear and he drops the gun which is approaching on empty anyway and heads over to T’Challa.

“Hey cuz,” he drawls.

“This is a very bad dream,” T’Challa says staring at him.

“Sorry to break it to you cuz, but some nightmares are real.” He smirks at him and then slices through the chains. T’Challa drops but manages to catch himself before he goes sprawling on the floor. Erik shakes his hands as a light blot of electricity goes through them from the chains.

Huh, so that’s why cuz couldn’t get out by himself.

He watches T’Challa struggle to his feet then sighs and yanks him up and drags him to the door. He peers out and ducks a knife that’s thrown at him.

“No really N’Jadaka, what are you doing here?”

“What does it look like cuz,” he grunts, “Saving your black backside curtsy of the pushy little princess.”

He props T’Challa on the wall and gets the knife that was thrown at him. He glances out again and then throws the knife back. A loud scream tells him that his aim hasn’t suffered from his long captivity.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart,” T’Challa says as they prepare to make a run down the corridor.

“Aww cuz I’m hurt? You don’t think I have a heart?”

“I’m sure you have a heart,” T’challa tells him as they plow into a mass of men. It looks like the supertasers aren’t plentiful around here because none of these guys have them, Erik notes. “I’m even sure you have goodness in your heart,” T’Challa continues after he’s knocked out three men and stops for a breath, “But I’m not sure you’ll just waste it on me when you more likely want to rip out my heart.”

“Your little sister is a cussed bitch and she poisoned me,” Erik says flatly. He breaks the neck of their last assailant.

“What?” T’Challa says blankly.

“She has the antidote,” Erik says as he helps T’Challa down the corridor since his cuz is looking distinctly wobbly on his feet. Which, fair enough since he was getting tazed for a couple hours. Erik grudging admits it’s a little impressive that T’Challa’s even standing.

The reach another cordon of men and really how big is this place and how many people are inside it anyway?

“I don’t know if to be impressed or horrified, “T’Challa muses.

“Better watch that,” Erik says wickedly, “She may turn into somebody like me and then you’d have to lock her away too.”

“I heard that,” Shuri interjects. Erik ignores her for the express purpose that it’ll piss her off more.

T’Challa snorts. “She couldn’t be like you even if she tried. She’d just quote memes at the world until it caved to her demands.”

Erik wants to protest but can’t really. Instead he goes for the next set of men, T’Challa right next to him. They move in concert, T’Challa taking low and Erik going high. The first row of men goes down and Erik lands back neatly on his feet already swiveling to deal with the next person. T’Challa stands as he lands and they end up back to back. He cousin doesn’t hesitate anymore than he does, whirling to face his next opponent. Surprisingly, they don’t get in each other’s way for all that it’s a small, crowded corridor. T’Challa borrows his shoulders once and Erik borrows his back. They stop blows heading for the other when they can and they hold their own when other is too distracted, until the corridor is clear and they moving again.

Going through the vent of course is not the plan. Erik is pretty sure if he tries to fit in there again he’ll break something and T’Challa isn’t any more streamlined than he is. No, their exit is a side door that they’re coming up to pretty quickly.

Two more encounters (and they must finally be running out of people because the groups are smaller this time) and then Erik rips down the door. T’Challa helps him to pry it open and then they’re stumbling outside.

The dora are waiting for them, having neutralized their targets relatively quickly and they take T’Challa from him. Three of them also run back inside and Erik follows them. Whoever they meet are dispatched quickly and then they’re at the control room. The three dora set to work capturing information and wiping what they can. Keeping Wakanda’s involvement a secret is paramount. Whatever footage there is must be wiped. Erik leaves them to it and goes hunting for the next room that Shuri found that was shielded.

It’s a bolt hole really and it’s where he’s sure he’ll find the mastermind behind it all. He gets to the main rom and then searches the room for the little space that was hidden here. He uses his memory of the blueprints to target where the room should bee and sure enough, behind a lovely Rembrandt hanging on the wall is a secret door. The look is locked with a keypad, a card and biometrics. Erik smirks and claws his way through the door.

He manages to dodge in time from the electrified shot that comes at him through the hole he’s opened up and flings a tiny paperweight through. It hits with a satisfying crack and Erik leisurely gets through the rest of the door to find a middle-aged man blinking dazedly at him. Blood runs down his head form where the paper weight had struck him.

“’Sup?” Erik says and smashes his fist into his face.

He hauls out the man and meets up with another pair of dora milaje who he points back to the room he came from. It’s their job to use C4 to hide any incrementing evidence like a door ripped open with panther claws. They probably hate him right now because this is door number three he’s given them but he really doesn’t care.

He drags out his prize to the ship and throws him inside. T’Challa, sitting inside, lifts a questioning eyebrow.

“Head honcho,” Erik says. “Kinda pathetic.”

“And not smart enough not to tangle with Wakanda,” T’Challa says. He tosses Erik some zip ties and Erik ties the man’s hands and legs together and then collapses into eh seat next to T’Challa.

“Well ain’t this fun,” he says smirking at T’Challa.

“You need to work on your definition of fun cousin,” T’Challa says leaning back his head on the headrest.

“And you need to learn the definition of fun,” Erik retorts but it’s not with too much heat. The adrenaline is still pumping and the satisfaction of the nights work is buoying him up.

In a few minutes there are small bangs coming from the building and then all of the wakandans who are going are back are on board and the ship takes off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a nice day/night!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait guys. When I finally did get started on this chapter, it took me awhile to write it. I still have no idea how it came out. Also I ended this in a quote war.   
> *- it's a quote.

Shuri is waiting for them when they arrive. She pounces on her brother the moment he makes it off the ship and begins barking orders to people to get him to her lab. T’Challa shares an amused look with Erik at Shuri taking charge and then has to fend of his sister’s insults.

“I build you a high tech suit, bullet resistant, nanotechnology, with stealth mode and you still get caught?!”

“You’re the one who tells me everything can be improved,” T'Challa shots back.

“Yes brother but there's a point when it’s not the hardware but the user who is at fault. Clearly this is a user problem.”

“How is this my fault. You’re the one who hasn’t made the suit shockproof.”

“I know you actively expect me to do the impossible, brother, but really there is a limit to things I can do,” Shuri retorted even as T'Challa is being helped into the lab. “I cannot cure your stupidity.”

“How is it stupid to think that all the victims might be, oh, victims?” T’Challa responds. 

Shuri flips him the bird and Erik stifles a laugh as he follows them down the hall. 

Queen Bitch is there at the lab and her eyes tighten at the sight of Erik but she ignore him in favour of moving toward her son. 

“T'Challa,” she says.

“Mother,” he says. “I hope I have not caused you any distress.”

“Of course not,” she said taking his hands. “They cannot hold the Black Panther. But I am relieved to see you well.”

“I’ll be the judge of whether or not he’s well,” Shuri says. “He’s always like ‘I’m fine mother, I’m good mother, this ripped muscle is a mere inconvenience mother, I’ve been gored by a rhino mother but by force of will alone I will not die mother.’”

“Hey,” says T’Challa. “I am not that bad.”

“Of course not,” Shuri says voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Not that this family reunion ain't sweet and all,” Erik interrupts, “But Princess and me have got a deal.”

“You sit there and wait your turn,” Shuri says to him. 

“Thought you’d be giving me the antidote in the cell,” he says cocking his eyebrow at her.

“I am,”she replies impatiently. “But I can’t check you over for injuries and heal you in the cell. So sit right there. When I’m not with my brother I will attend to you.”

Erik blinks. Check him over for injuries?

Before he can say anything though Shuri has returned her attention to T’Challa who has finally stripped off the suit and is sitting on Shuri’s med-table as she scans him. While she does that the ex-queen leaves the room. 

Shuri eyes what the scans have said and grimaces at a few results. Intrigued because he’s never seen Wakandan medical technology at work, Erik stalks forward and hovers over her shoulder. She glances at him but doesn’t actively stop him as his eyes flicks over the scans.

He almost whistles. The technology is incredible. Already Shri has all the area of T’Challa’s body that have been hurt and they’re all sorted into minor, major and fatal. Most of his cousins injuries are actually minor, the suit buffering him for most of it but there a few burn marks where energy transfer from the electricity has made its way through. Shuri tapped a few things on her kimoyo bead display and then waved at T'Challa to lie down. 

His cousin huffed, no doubt thinking it overkill to be treated for such minor injuries but he does as his sister wants and reclines on the bed. A small dome of light engulfs the bed and Erik abandons Shuri’s side to go over by T’Challa and look down at him. 

It would be so easy to just reach down and choke him right now, jab his fingers into his neck and smash his trachea into so many pieces even Shuri couldn’t put it back together fast enough. The temptation is strong, stronger now because Erik’s few hours of freedom are coming to an end. 

T'Challa can see it of course. His dear cuz knows what he’d thinking. Not like Erik is trying to hide it or anything. He waits to see T'Challa's response. It’s not long in coming. Cuz lifts and arm and wraps his fingers around the wrist closest to him. 

Erik tenses but the grip on his arm is not meant to restrict, it is, he realizes after a few moments, meant to reassure.

“Thank you,” T'Challa says and Erik almost laughs. 

“Don’t thank me, Cuz” Erik says, “I didn’t do this for you.”

“I know,” T'Challa says. “But thank you anyway. I appreciated your presence.”

“Now that’s a straight up lie Cuz,” Erik says, snorting.

“No,” T'Challa says simply. “I may not have appreciated it at first but I do now.”

“Smooth,” Erik says. “Real smooth cuz.” The edge of T’Challa’s mouth curves up into a little half-smile of genuine amusement. 

“What I don’t get any thanks?” Shuri interjects. 

“You called me stupid,” T'Challa points out.

“You poisoned me,” Erik follows right after. 

“You were stupid,”  Shuri said pointing to T'Challa, “And you,” she said pointing to Erik, “would have killed me and him if I didn’t.”

“And?” Erik shrugs. “Way I see it, you still don’t get no thanks.”

Shuri gapes at him and T’Challa tries to stifle a snort of laughter and does not succeed. He tightens his grip briefly on Erik’s wrist and then releases it and sits up. He slides off the table and Shuri scowls at Erik and points him to it. 

Erik sits on the table while Shuri scans him and then he leans forward trying to read the display from behind. Shuri snorts at him but turns and sits on the bed with him so he can see what the results are. It’s mostly minor burns from his tasing. Shuri shakes her head. 

“Who voluntarily gets themselves tased?” she said in exasperation.

“What?!” said T’Challa surprised. 

Shuri pointed at Erik. “Cousin dearest thought it would be a good idea to take an electric blast to the chest without the suit, to prevent the suit from freezing so that he could have sufficient mobility to take down two guards.”

T'Challa blinks and then turns to Erik. “That..was probably not the smartest idea.”

Erik scowls at him. “Of the two of us which one got captured by this electrical blast?”

“I do not think that is the point,” T’Challa says blandly.

“That’s what they always say when they’re trying to get away from admitting they’re wrong,” Erik replies, just as blandly as T’Challa.

“It still doesn’t detract from that fact that it wasn’t the smartest idea,” Shuri says. “And as the smartest person in the room, I can definitely say that.”

Erik snorts. “Pretty confident there aren’t you?”

“I didn’t say you weren’t smart,” she retorts, even as she flicks of the display and starts pushing Erik down on the table to get fixed. “My life would actually be a lot easier if you were stupid.”

Erik scowls at her and flips her the bird. She responds by started the procedure with a wave of her middle finger. T’Challa rubs at his forehead like he’s physically pained by their actions. 

The dome of light flickers on and Erik blinks. This is the first time he’s been healed with the tech while awake and it’s…strange. Hell it’s straight up weird. Energy hums through him, pulsing from the med table. The dome of light actually seems to reflect the energy back down, trapping and increasing the concentration of it. Soon enough he can feel the energy coalesce around his injured areas. His skin feels like it’s humming under the pressure. Then there’s heat, like a fever rising  from the wounds but not painful. The area of heat slowly shrinks and as he watches, the skin closes under his gaze. Vibranium indeed. Erik wonders how much of him his stupid toilet would heal. 

Before he can voice the question, the dome shuts of and Shuri is scowling down at him. He replied in kind and Shuri throws a pile of white clothes at him. Erik stares down at the prison clothes and feels anger stir inside him. 

Before it can get too far though T’Challa voice pierces through. “Did you change here?”

Erik looks up wondering what was wrong with that until he looks at Shuri and understands. Shuri rolls her eyes. 

“I turned my back.”

“She did,” Erik supplies helpfully, figuring if he’d say anything else T’Challa might just attempt to rip him apart there and then. And while Erik is up for a fight, he knew that any fight between them means that Shuri will never give him the antidote. 

Shuri rolls her eyes exaggeratedly at T’Challa while Erik gives him a look that says, ‘no really even I don’t sink that low.’ 

T'Challa lets it go and Shuri turns her back once more while Erik strips down and steps back into his prison clothes. 

“Done,” he announces and Shuri turns back. 

“You have one more thing to do, cousin,” she reminds him.

Ahh yes. 

He straightened up exaggeratedly, and says in his best polite voice, “Hit me up with the antidote princess. Pretty please?” He bats his eyes for good measure and the look Shuri throws him is totally worth it. T’Challa also looks severely disturbed and Erik is savagely pleased. 

The guards pick up his chains though and snap them back around his wrists and legs. Erik’s good mood disappears with a  vengeance and T’Challa seeing his black look murmurs, “N’Jakada.”

Erik’s gaze snaps up to him. “What?!” he bites out. 

“Come I will walk you,” he says and despite the frowny faces his guards and the dora gives him, his stupid cousin falls into step beside him. 

* * *

 

Erik wants. Oh how he wants to wrap his chains around his stupid cousins neck and stifle the life out of him. Maybe he’d snap his neck if he twisted the chains tight enough and gets enough leverage. 

He touches the well of patience he often tapped when waiting for the perfect moment to perform an assassination and holds to his temper.

T’Challa paces next to him easy and unconcerned though Erik is under no illusions that he is unaware of the directions of Erik's thoughts. 

“Are you okay?” T'Challa asks. 

Erik snorts and kind of wants to rip T’Challa’s head from his body. His muscles bulge and tense even as he says, “Just got fixed up with your fancy tech cuz,” he said. “Im brand new.”

“I would not have had you poisoned,” T’Challa says in reply. 

Erik absorbs the words and what they implied and lets out a harsh but genuine laugh. “You already have me in a cage cuz,” he said. “The poison’s just a sub for the usual kind.”

“It is unkinder,” T’Challa says, “and I would not have had it used on you.”

“Maybe it’s kinder to you,” Erik shrugs, “but it sure as hell beats staring at four walls. ‘Sides you couldn't keep me with anything less And since you ain’t letting me go don’t apologize.”

T’Challa looks away and for a moment Erik is shocked because he can’t imagine T’Challa would ever give ground so easily, before he realises that his cousin isn't giving ground so much as hiding his expression. 

“What you so afraid to fess up cuz?” he taunted, ugly ugly anger building with each step he took toward his cell. “Big bad Black Panther, freaking king of Wakanda. What you got to hide cousin?!” 

T’Challa snaps his gaze back to him and Erik can see his anger. But his anger isn’t directed at Erik. T’Challa is mad at himself. 

“My wish that i did not have to lock you up!” He snapped. “That is what I have to hide!”

Eik stops so abruptly in the hallway that his guards have spears digging into his side. He barely registers them. He stares at T’Challa like he’s speaking a foreign language. That his cousins were stupid and caring and soft, he knew but this?? This was a stupidity that he hadn't even dared to imagine. 

“What the hell?” Erik says. He crowds up to T’Challa and stares into his eyes and looks him up and down. “Did they drop you on your head sometime and forget to fix it?” He snarled. “‘Cause either you got some brain damage or you’re lying to me cousin.”

T’Challa opens his mouth but Erik beats him to it. 

“If you’re lying don't bother with that shit. Don't try and play happy family with me T’Challa. I don't buy and I never will. And if you’re trying to condition me, you better up your damn game. Ain't no Stockholm Syndrome for me cuz. All this?” Erik gestures to indicate the entire day. “All this was because it was useful. I meant it when I said it cousin; the next time I get out of your cage, no matter what form it comes in, I'll kill you.” With that he stalks off and his guards move with him. 

He hopes he lost him but his stupid cousin follows behind him placidly until they reach his cage. 

“Gonna follow me in here too?” He throws over his shoulder. 

“You’re not allowed to go in yet,” T’Challa remarks and Erik cocks his eyebrow up. T'Challa flashes him his own ring and Erik stiffens when he realises what it means. 

“No!” He snaps. T’Challa actually looks pained but he holds out his hand. 

“You’ll have to take it off me yourself!” Erik snaps to hide the fact that he doesn't think that he can make his hand move to take it off. It would be like ripping a bone free. He literally cannot do it. Logic says that he has to, he must or else Shuri will let the poison kill him but he can’t move. His muscles tightened and bunched and he’s clearly bracing himself for a fight but T’Challa has been trained to read people as much as Erik has and the heart-shaped herb doesn't hurt. He sees what Erik doesn't say and moves over to him and lifts the chain away from him while Erik fights himself to let him do it. ‘Discipline,’ he chants in his head. Let it go. He refuses to bend his head to let T’Challa slip it off because hell if he’s going to bow before his cousin even in this way. T’Challa easily works the chain past his dreads and then lifts if off. 

It goes into a pocket and T’challa says: “I will return it to Shuri.”

“Yeah whatever,” Erik says. The door to his cell hisses open and Erik walks in, lets them remove the chains and doesn't even smash their skulls in. The guards retreat and the door hisses shut. 

Erik waits for T’Challa to leave because he’s feeling strangely raw and tired but T’Challa doesn’t.

“We done now?” he asked, not turning to look at him. 

*“Man’s goodness is a flame that can be hidden but never extinguished,” T’Challa quoted softly. 

Erik scoffed. “Nelson Mandela,” he said. He quoted Mandela back at him,* “ When a man is denied the right to live the life he believes in, he has no choice but to become an outlaw.”

*“For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others,” T’Challa countered pointedly.

*“The chains on any one of my people were the chains on all of them. The chains on all of my people were the chains on me,” Erik snapped back, turning to face his cousin. 

*“No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite,” T’Challa replied, trying to drive his point home. 

*“Real leaders must be ready to sacrifice all for the freedom of their people,” Erik quoted back. 

*“Extremists on all sides thrive, fed by the blood lust of centuries gone by,” T’Challa counter-quoted. 

*“Our people have the right to hope, the right to a future, the right to life itself,” Erik shot back the quote at his cousin coming straight up to the glass. 

*“The death of a human being, whatever may be his station in life, is always a sad and painful affair,” T’Challa quotes solemnly. 

*“Our march to freedom is irreversible. We must not allow fear to stand in our way,” Erik replied, daring his cousin. 

*“I knew as well as I knew anything that the oppressor must be liberated just as surely as the oppressed,” T’Challa defected gently throwing the ball back in his court. 

*“Action without vision is only passing time, vision without action is merely day dreaming, but vision with action can change the world,” Erik lobs the ball back to his cousin.

*“Never, never and never again shall it be that this beautiful land will again experience the oppression of one by another,” T’Challa quotes and it’s the first one that Erik can agree with. 

*“Gone forever are the days when harsh and wicked laws provide the oppressors with years of peace and quiet,” and it’s as much a threat as it is a promise. 

*“I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance I have come,” T'Challa begins.

*“But I can rest only for a moment, for with freedom come responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not yet ended,” Erik finishes together with him. They lock eyes. It’s a quote that resonates with both of them though they both can see that it’s on different levels. 

Shuri’s voice breaks over both of them. *“A good head and a good heart are always a formidable combination,” She quotes at both of them. She approaches Erik’s glass and set the device on the wall which opens the port. Erik sticks his hand through and Shuri slides the needle into his arm and depresses the plunger. 

She removes the needle and Erik draws back his arm quickly before she takes the device of the glass. Shuri steps back and looks at both at them and quotes softly but solemnly:

*“Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate, but that we are powerful beyond measure.”

Erik snorts but can’t help the smile edging up. Ain’t that Wakanda all over. But Shuri’s gaze doesn’t move from the both of them and Erik realizes that she isn’t talking about Wakanda, she’s talking about them, all three of them. 

He looks at T’Challa who looks back at him and then they both look at Shuri. Princess doesn’t say anything but she doesn’t need to. Erik snorts again but he did make a deal, one that he’ll hold to as long as he’s here and it provides opportunities for a way out. 

He delivers one final quote: *“When people are determined they can overcome anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All quotes are from Nelson Mandela.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is really, really short but i didn't want to leave you guys hanging for much longer. I had a hard time writing this chapter so tell me how it is please. I'm a bit worried about it.

Erik is awakened from the throes of a nightmare by a beep from his tablet. He reaches out, grabs the tablet and flings it at the far wall in an explosion of violence. He slides of his bunk and sits on the edge breathing hard. He is drowning in death, in the look in his father’s eyes, in blood bubbling up his throat.

When his heart stops rabbiting in his chest he staggers over to the tablet to see what message he had received. The tablet says 'rise and shine!' in cheery letters and there is a sun with a panther face in the middle. Erik instantly gets nightmarish visions of Teletubbies. He sorely wished he thought about finding whoever had made that stupid show and shooting them in the head. He’d taken great pleasure in shooting the terrorist whose little daughter had been listening to Teletubbies on repeat for the three hours he’d been waiting for the shot. Seriously kid, you were six, couldn’t you have watched Pride Family or something? Hell Erik would have settled for Sesame Street by the end of the first five minutes of that job. 

Still Erik taps the panther and is greeted with a countdown and a message.

'30 minutes to interrogation. Hurry up and get dressed N'Jadaka, if you have any questions for the perp you caught.'

Erik snorts and then turns to look up at one of the cameras in his cell.

"You gonna put a criminal to interrogate a criminal princess?"

His tablet vibrates and Erik accepts the call. Instead of princesses’ snarky glare however, he finds himself meeting T'Challa's regal gaze.

"What up Cuz?" he drawls, smothering the blip of surprise.

 "Erik," says his cousin, "Good morning. We are interrogating the perpetrator today. Since it was your investigations that lead us to him, I thought you would like to join us."

"First of," Erik says, "it ain't in no ways a good morning. Second, if I'm going to interrogate somebody I ain't doing it from a cell. And thirdly, I don't think you and I would agree much on my interrogation techniques what with the high moral standards you kings have got around here.”

T’Challa flinches almost imperceptibly at his mocking tone and the dig against T’chaka.

“Very well,” T’Challa says almost gravely. “But we shall still stream the interrogation to you…if you wish to see it.”

“Reality TV,” Erik drawls in a parody of excitement. “Just what I needed. Rot my body and my brain.”

He cuts of the call before T’Challa can reply.

 

* * *

 

He watches the interrogation. Of course, he does. He notices that attached to his visual feed is a comm line that feeds into T’Challa’s earpiece. Well Erik is assuming there is an earpiece because he can’t see a damn thing. Maybe it’s subdermal, like the control for the suit? Whatever. All that matters, is that T’Challa can hear him if he feels like talking to his dear cousin. Not that he will of course. But he is curious. He wants to see just how far T’Challa will go to get information for the safety of his country.

He watches as the prisoner is secured in a room with blank, white walls. It’s the first place that Erik has seen where there are no warm Wakandan colors. The prisoner’s hands are cuffed to the table and his legs are chained to the chair. Yet the prisoner wears none of the terror he’d had when Erik had dragged him out of his hiding space. Instead his face is set into an arrogant expression and confidence has his back straight and his muscles relaxed.

Footsteps sound down the hallway and Erik look up and cock an eyebrow wondering who was coming. He should have guessed really. Who else comes down to visit him?

Shuri doesn’t really look at him. She’s focused on her the display from her kimoyo beads but she plops down on the other side of his glass wall and crosses her legs.

“I thought they grew people up with manners here?” Erik drawls.

“Morning N’Jadaka,” she said still focused on her display. She does take the time to wave a middle finger cheerily at him. “I didn’t hear you greet me either,” she adds as an afterthought.

“That’s because I have no manners,” Erik says flatly.

Shuri rolls her eyes and finally looks over at him. She pats the glass in clear invitation for him to come over.

Erik almost laughs. Damn but his cousins can be cold. Princess literally poisoned him yesterday and now she’s all buddy-buddy. Sometimes Erik wonders if they really are any different from him. Maybe they’re all monsters in here. Maybe monster runs in the blood. At least Erik tries to but his monsters to work for the greater good. All his cousins do is suppress theirs and end up doing nothing to help the people they’re supposed to.

Shuri looks up again when he doesn’t join her. “Come on N’Jakada, we don’t have all day!”

“Oh it’s N’Jadaka today,” Erik says mockingly.

Shuri rolls her eyes so expressively Erik thinks it should become a new form of exercise. “Would you prefer I call you Erik? Or Stevenson? N’Jadaka Stevenson? Idiot-who-threw-my-brother-of-a-cliff?”

“Princess-brat-who-kept-her-medical-advances-away-from-the-rest-of-the-world-and-left-thousands-of-people-to-die,” Erik shot back.  

“Killmonger,” Shuri shoots back.

“Family-members-who-I-will-kill-if-they-keep-going-on-like-this-through-the-interrogation,” T’Challa’s voice came form Shuri’s kimoyo beads.

Both Erik and Shuri scowl at her kimoyo beads before realizing they’re wearing matching expressions and smoothed their faces professionally.

After a moment though princess says softly, “N’Jadaka is your name isn’t it?”

She knows it is but Erik knows what she’s really asking. “Yeah,” he says grudgingly. His name is all he’s ever had to hold on from his father besides the ring. It’s all he’s had to hold on as his heritage from Wakanda save for the wardog tattoo on his lip. He’s never going to deny it. And he won’t deny his cousins the privilege to use it either.

He doesn’t quite know why, but Shuri carried his father’s ring so it wouldn’t be left alone in storage and T’Challa hadn’t let him fall into unconsciousness alone. Both of them had never denied his claim to wakandan blood and neither of them had ever denied him as their cousin even though it would have been much easier for them to have done so. And some subconscious part of him knew that their use of both his names meant that they accepted both parts of him, that they accepted that he had such varied heritage because of what their father had done and they weren’t shying away from the truth of it.

Suri gives him an apologetic smile and Erik smirks at her and they’re back to their usual level of hate.

Shuri turns back to her display. “What are you taking so long for brother?” She says to T’Challa.

“I am not even there yet!” T’Challa protested. Erik stifles a sigh. It’s going to be a long interrogation.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, parts of this suck. I know they suck. I'm so sorry. I really, really fought with this chapter. But thanks you so much to all you guys who have commented and read and given kudos. You guys are really, really awesome. I am very happy to have gotten out a chapter for you before the year ends.  
> On that note Happy New Year to everyone and I'll see you guys in 2019!!

T’Challa walks in like he owns the room. His face doesn’t give away any of his earlier irritation and Erik surmises that he’s put it away already. The expression he shows the prisoner is neutral and terribly difficult to read and Erik grudgingly gives his cousin points for it.

The prisoner still has his arrogant demeanor but when contrasted sharply against T’Challa, he looks like a child at play. There is no doubt who the true power is in the room. Neither however, is there any doubt that this interrogation will be difficult.

Whoever he is, whatever else he is, their prisoner is a businessman and businessmen are notorious for being slippery sharks. Wordplay is their ballroom and they dance nearly every second of their lives. Power or not, their prisoner has got a lot of experience under his belt and Erik isn’t quite sure that his cousin can match him.

Next to him princess has quieted, jaw set, muscles tensing almost unconsciously. Her eyes are fixed on the feed from the room and a thin display on the side of the video. Erik tilts his head into the glass to see better.

Oh. Princess is somehow monitoring the vitals of the prisoner in the room. T’Challa has his very own royal lie detector. Ain’t that cute? He refocused on his own feed curious to see how T’Challa will start this interrogation.

“Kadon Teremis,” he said, standing opposite the prisoner. “I would say you are ghost because of how you seem to exist only certain planes of the world. But there is so much darkness that can be traced back to you, you are more like a nightmare.”

Their prisoner scoffs. “Progress is always a nightmare for those who oppose it.”

T’Challa leans back a little and cocks his head. “I fail to see how killing people and exporting their organs is progress.”

The prisoner laughs. “Not everyone has the ability to heal deadly wounds with the snap of a finger. I have developed a trade that caters to a niche market. I help those with particular needs. Just because the world doesn’t approve of those needs does not mean they shouldn’t be filled. Afterall what society deems acceptable is always a fickle thing.”

“Death of innocents is never acceptable,” T’Challa says and Erik can see that his cousin is pissed as all hell already.

“I make use of the resources available,” Kadon Teremis says. “All those innocents, our donors, would have been nothing. They would have given nothing to the grand scheme of things. They are nothing, useful only for cultivating slums and spreading disease. Why if we hadn’t taken them half of them would have been infected with HIV and died in a year or two. So why should we waste what they don’t care a damn about? Instead of them living meaningless lives and dying just as meaninglessly, we gave them the chance to help others who would have made a better contribution to society.”

“Erik,” Shuri whispers. “Cousin.”

Erik turns his head stiffly to her to find her looking at him in concern. She nodded to his hands and he realizes that his knuckles are white where he is gripping the edges of the tablet. He suspects that if it wasn’t Wakanda make it would have been crushed by now.

“Son of a bitch,” Erik spits but eases his grip on the tablet.

T’Challa dips his head ever so slightly and Erik realizes that he is agreeing with his assessment of the prisoner.

“Your logic,” T’Challa pronounces gravely, “is a poor shield against the atrocities that you have committed.”

“I’m not the one who watched while hundreds of people died when I had the chance to save them,” Kadon says. “I used what would have been wasted and gave lives to people who would have died. Members of the community that contributed to life.”

“Every person contributes to life,” T’Challa says, “And it is not up to us to decide if life is wasted. But the truth, Kadon Teremis, is that you do not care for the lives you claim you save. You care only for profit, for money, for the luxury and power such money gives you.”

The prisoner’s eyes are cold. “And you don’t? Let’s not forget that you and your people kept medical advances that could save so much of the world away from everyone. Every little child who died of cancer, who needed a heart, a lung, a kidney, a liver. You killed them.”

Erik finds himself waiting for the answer, waiting to see what his cousin will say. Because as much as a monster Teremis is, he has a point. Princess on the other hand is watching him. He gives her a side glare and she sighs but says nothing.

It’s enough to make him mad all over again because she’s not even trying to defend herself.

“I had a duty to protect my people first,” T’Challa says softly. “We were not prepared to fight the world when they came for us. We were not settled enough in ourselves to continue to be who we were and be who we needed to be. We were not brave enough. We were not strong enough. And the world was not mature enough to take what good we would give them and not turn it into weaponry. For every child we would have saved, ten more would have killed by weapons built from our technology. As much I wish it, the world is not made up of only good people. Good intentions can have disastrous consequences. We could not, in good faith, allow those consequences rampage over an unsuspecting world. We are not innocent. I am aware we have taken far too long to share our resources with the world. But we are attempting to make amends for that now.”

It’s a blink and you’ll miss it movement but his cousin’s head tilts ever so subtly towards the camera that is feeding to Erik’s tablet. Acknowledgement of his role in Wakanda’s choice to show themselves to the world.

Erik notes it but he’s not done thinking through T’Challa’s answer. The king of Wakanda can be a gifted speaker when he is ready and Erik doesn’t feel like falling for charisma and pretty words today.

On the other side of the glass Shuri is still, waiting for him to decide what he thinks.

“Not prepared to fight the world my black big toe!” Erik snaps.

Shuri chokes and then frantically smacks her chest to dislodge her horror.

Back in the room Teremis laughs. “Well spoken, King T’Challa. But your people’s weapons are far advanced than anyone’s. You could have defended yourselves just fine.”

“When you and the organ trafficking bastard agree on a point, you should probably rethink your stance,” Shuri tell him. Erik sneers at her and she smirks. Evidently princess has recovered. Erik would have rather she choked on her horror until she asphyxiated. He’s never killed someone from a one-liner before.

“You mis-understand me,” T’Challa says to his prisoner. His voice is so soft it’s clearly a threat. “Wakanda has always had the means to protect itself. However, we did not wish to have the blood of the world on our hands. We are warriors but we do not seek out war.”

“Huh,” Erik huffs out a laugh. Damn but his cousin is good with words. It’s times like this that Erik can see that he’s been groomed to be a king and to handle the politics that invariably comes with the post. It’s easy to see the man, or the black panther when you look at his cousin. It’s far harder to see the politician that lies hidden in the mantle of King.

“You could almost make a girl forgive you for forgetting her birthday cuz.”

Neither T’Challa’s position or his expression changes but Erik get’s the distinct impression that he really, really wants to sigh.

“He is not that good,” Shuri tells him. “He forgot his first girlfriend’s birthday and she dumped him.”

T’Challa puts one hand behind his back where the prisoner can’t see it and gives a pointed middle -finger to both of them. On the plus side, he looks almost regally militant standing with one hand behind his back.

“Aww and here I thought you were above that kind of thing, cuz. What happened to being a good man?”

“It dies when you are an older brother, N’Jadaka.” Shuri tells him with mock seriousness.

T’Challa ignores them, speaking over their chatter to Teremis. “You on the other hand, you would kill innocents to line your own pockets and call it mercy.” His words are a little pointed, clearly trying to get the peanut gallery to shut up.

Since it is a piece of shit they’re interrogating, Erik quiets and knocks the glass to get Shuri to do the same. Princess gives him a look but settles down as well.

“But,” continues T’Challa. “I am not here to discuss morality. I am here to find out why you targeted Wakanda. You could have just let your man be captured. A loss, but not one that could not be recovered from and such a course of action would leave you undiscovered. Yet you chose to kidnap me and expose yourself. Why? What have we done that has rated such interest from you?”

“You rate an interest from the whole world,” Teremis replied.

“That fails to answer my question,” T’Challa replies.

“I dislike when people poke into my business,” Teremis says steadily, eyes narrowing.

“Then you off them,” Erik says. “You don’t kidnap them for a party, not when there’s a good chance they can escape.”

T’Challa doesn’t respond to Erik, he can’t but:

“I am not very conversant with the practice of criminals,” T’Challa says. “But I do know that often when someone is a problem, criminals tend to get rid of them. They don’t usually kidnap people who may have the resources to escape.”

“You’re welcome,” Erik says.

“We knew that already,” Shuri says dryly. Erik flips her off and she replies in kind.

“Your bullet proof suit makes that a little difficult,” Teremis replies.

“Then we are back to where we first began,” T’Challa replies. “You could have sacrificed the philanthropist and kept yourself a secret, rebuild your business out of our eye and continue undisturbed. But instead you chose to capture me, revealing weapons you had made specifically for the purpose, and exposing yourself. Even if we had not found you then, you know we would have gone looking for whoever had manufactured such weaponry. So why expose yourself? What did you have to gain from such a thing?”

“You’re stomping on a lot of toes,” Teremis said after a moment. “Capturing and killing you would open a lot of doors.”

“Bullshit,” Erik says.

“Lie!” Shuri pronounces at the same moment.

“My little sister can lie better than that,” T’Challa says to his prisoner. “And she is a terrible liar.”

“I am not!” Princess snaps offended. Erik snorts.

“You can’t lie worth a damn princess.”

“Try again,” T’Challa encourages his prisoner.

Teremis clenches his jaw but says nothing.

“What do you have to gain by coming after Wakanda?” T’Challa repeats.

Still their prisoner says nothing.

“I will only ask one more time,” T’Challa tells him.

“Or what?” Teremis sneers. “You’ll torture me? Somehow I think that you’re beyond that sort of thing.”

“Somehow,” Erik snarls, trapped in his silver cage. “I don’t.”

Shuri twitches as she aborts some motion and Erik whips his attention to her.

“What don’t like the truth princess?!”

“You are paying for the consequences of your actions,” Shuri says. “We are allowing you to pay that price as humanely as we can. As anyone can.”

“Should have let me die!” Erik snarled at her.

T’Challa exhales softly and Erik knows its for him.“Shut up Cuz!”

T’Challa put both hands behind his back. To Teremis it looks like he’s looming over him. But Erik can see that he has carefully encircled one wrist with the fingers of the other hand. It sparks of a memory of T’Challa gripping his wrist back in Shuri’s lab, a memory of attempted reassurance instead of restraint.

Erik snarls wordlessly at him because he doesn’t need his reassurance, he doesn’t want his comfort. He doesn’t want his freaking cage. He wants his life and his freedom and the freedom for his people.

“You agreed to help, N’Jadaka,” Shuri murmurs. Erik slams his hand into the glass and she filches away. He takes satisfaction from her fear but reminds himself that it’s a long game he has to play and if he plays nice, he can speed up the timeline.

In the meantime, T’Challa has continued the interrogation despite his attention being split. The only indication that he has been listening to two different conversations is the stiffness in which he holds himself.

“You are right in that we do not hold with torture,” T’Challa replies. “But that does not mean we do not have our ways of extracting information.”

Teremis laughed. “If it were so easy and so…acceptable to those who signed the Sokovia accords you would have done so by now. By the way, what do they think of your little jaunt?”

“You’re asking the wrong question cuz,” Erik says before T’Challa can reply. “It’s not what he has to gain. It’s what he has to lose if he didn’t take you and Wakanda out of the equation.”

“Let me worry about that,” T’Challa says to their prisoner, refusing to let him lead the interrogation off course.

“He won’t say anything brother,” Shuri said. “Not if it really matters.”

T’Challa stiffens ever so slightly and Erik knows that his naive cousin does not want to turn to those other measures he mentioned. Long game he reminds himself.

“Princess is right,” Erik says, “You want to get that information out of him, you can’t do it with a toothpick. You need sledgehammer to hammer that shit out of him.”

“We don’t do torture!” Shuri hissed at him. He ignored her.

“So be a freaking sledgehammer cuz or are you too nice for that?”

“How do you be a sledgehammer?!” Shuri asks throwing her hands up in the air.

Behind his back, T’Challa turns his palms up in a classic, ‘I don’t know’ gesture.

Erik scoffs. “I guess they don’t teach that in Wakandan warrior school.”

“No apparently it’s proprietary to government destabilization school,” Shuri hisses at him. Erik ignores her. For the first time he switches on his actual comm to T’Challa instead of speaking through Shuri’s.

“Sledgehammer 101, cuz,” he says. “Keep up and say exactly what I say, how I say it.” He doesn’t wait for T’Challa to agree. His cousin has been silent far too long anyway.

“Okay let’s cut the bullshit,” Erik says. “The only reason you’re here is because you messed up and people like you don’t mess up unless they’re desperate. Which usually either means two things. They’re trying to get something they need or they’re trying to protect what they got.”  
He doesn’t expect T’Challa not to hesitate and is surprised when his cousin speaks seconds after he does, rattling off everything Erik says while copying his tone.  
He catches himself before he gives away his surprise and concentrates on what effect his words have on the prisoner. Shuri twists to put her back tot eh glass so that he hcan read the prisoner’s vitals easier.

“Now a consummate businessman like you always knows when to play the market. And a criminal good enough to achieve ghost status in this day and age doesn’t do business without backup plans. Which means you have multiple source lines for anything you need. You,” he said pointedly, “don’t need shit. So that leaves us with the other option. You’re trying to protect something.And whatever it is, is big enough to risk garnering the attention of Wakanda and capturing it’s king.”

“Vitals are rising,” Shuri reported softly. The prisoner has shifted slightly and is glaring at T’Challa, jaw clenched tightly. But he’s still refusing to speak.

“Fine,” Erik says and listens to T’Challa copy him. “If you want to play, sure.” He fixes his eyes on the prisoner through the tablet. “But I don’t play.” He glances at Shuri. “What do you have on him princess?”

With a flick of her fingers, the information appears on his tablet.

Back in the room, Teremis shrugs. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“No,” Erik says, the beginnings of a smile twitching on the corners of his mouth. “But even ghosts are born.”

“What?” Teremis asks, frowning at T’Challa.

“Aww, mommy dearest is the last one you’ve got. You seem to take of care her.”

Besides his Shuri stirs like she’ll say something but Erik puts up a finger to shut her up. She scowls at him but obeys.

“I thought you people didn’t do torture,” Teremis says but his voice definitely has an edge in it.

“We don’t,” Erik bares his teeth at the screen and is surprised when T’Challa does the same because he’s pretty sure that his cousin is not looking at any feeds to his cage at the moment.

“But you thought for a second that we would though. That’s cool. Nice to know even psychopaths still has some love for mommy dearest. Warms my heart really.”

“What’s your point?!” snaps Teremis.

“That you’re not such a cold son of a bitch that you think you are,” Erik snaps back at him. “I know men like you. You all think you got steel balls handing on the end of a steel spine but you all got soft spots. You all got weakness that I can find and drill into you.”

He’s leaning forward even though he isn’t in the room. On screen T’Challa leans forward hands pressing so carefully onto the tabletop, the expression of carefully control power is like a hit in the face. His cousin is painfully close to Teremis and the man is tense and coiled and afraid.

From the flicker of confusion and the ways his eyes are darting gently sided to side, he doesn’t even know why he is afraid. It’s all instinct. He’s caged in a room with something very dangerous and he’s only now realizing it.

“It’s not going to happen today,” Erik whispers. “You’re gonna hold out for a bit. A week, maybe two. And then it starts.”

“What starts?” Teremis asks.

“The torture,” Erik says.

“You don’t….” starts Teremis.

“Oh we ain’t gonna lay a hand on you,” Erik says with a smile that is oth sunny and utterly razor sharp. “But in a week or two, we’re going to know how you tick. I am going to know every insecurity you ever had. I’m going to know your deepest fears. I’m going to know your greatest regrets. I’m going to know what drives you, what passions keep you alight, what gives you satisfaction. And then, then I’m going to take each and every one of those things, twist ‘em and drive ‘em back into your skull.”

Teremis starts to sputter a reply but Erik, T’Challa, doesn’t let him get far.

“I will break you on the back of your insecurities, I will cut you open with the blade of your regrets, I will burn your passions in front of your eyes until you scream in the fires and drown you in the satisfaction of dying in your worst fears. You’ll be nothing but a voiceless wisp in a silver cage, screaming for death and I won’t give it to you. By the time I am done with you ghost, you’d wish you were corporeal enough so that I could rip out your heart in my bare hands. You think that you can handle what’s coming? You can’t. You think you’re big and bad? You don’t even scratch the surface. You know nothing of monsters and less of determination. And the best part? The best part is that in the end you’ll want what I want. You won’t have realized that any of it happened until you wake up one morning and you’re just a shattered corpse held together by duct tape. So protect your business, I’ll shatter your mind and then I’ll take what I want.”

T’Challa is less that three inches away from Teremis and he has copied Erik straight down to the bones. Teremis is staring at him with undisguised fear because Erik hadn’t been playing. He knew that they’d break him and he knew that there was no way he could hold up against it.

Without another word, T’Challa whirls and leaves the room leaving him alone with his fears.

* * *

 

Back in his cell Erik lets out a shaky breath. His muscles are bunched hard under his t-shirt and his jaw is clenched, veins standing out. It’s freaking ironic, he thinks, that the hammer he hit Teremis with is perilously close to the one that his cousins are using on him. Well ain’t that bitchin’?

Movement makes him whirl towards the glass and he lashes out. He misses Shuri’s fingers by mere millimeters as she pulls her hand out of the cell from where she’d been pressing her fingers on his arm to ground him. He pushes his hand through the circle but she jerks back and he snarls at her as he misses her again.

“Shuri? Erik?” T’Challa calls through the comms.

Erik ignores him, locking eyes with Shuri. Her jaw is clenched but she holds his gaze. The guards have their spears aimed at him as he grins lazily at her, arm still dangling through the opening she’d made in the glass.

“’Sup princess?”

“Put you arm back in Erik,” Shuri said. “Or I’ll close the glass and you’ll lose the arm.”

Erik scoff but pulls his arm back in. The glass seals over and Shuri takes the circular contraption from off the glass.

“Shuri?! N’Jadaka?!”

“We’re fine brother,” Shuri says eyes still locked into his, body still coiled for a fight.

“Yeah we’re good cuz,” Erik tells him smirking at Shuri.

“I’ll meet you in the conference room,” Shuri tells T’Challa still not taking her eyes of, of him. Then she turns and leaves.

“See you later princess!” he calls after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope despite the sucky bits you guys enjoyed this chapter though! 
> 
> Okay so a bunch of random things: I was absent through the month of November at least, due to Nanowrimo. I did make my 50,000 word goal though so yay! I hope you guys had a good Christmas or Hanukkah. Once more wishing you guys all the best for 2019! And if you haven't seen Into the Spiderverse yet you should probably go do that.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! This is the most nervous I've ever been about posting in a fandom. Feedback is welcome and appreciated!!!


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